Enduring Knight
by KuraNova
Summary: Mages and Templars were never meant to be together. Why, then, did he feel so compelled by her? An original take on the Cullen x Magequisitor romance
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first Dragon Age fic and first fan fiction (huzzah)! I am really excited about getting this going.**

**Since I am lacking a beta, please excuse any grammatical errors you may happen upon during the course of your reading. I try my best to edit, but may not catch everything. Thank you for your time. Please enjoy!**

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><p>His mentor had once told him that the world in which they lived was a mirror of each individuals' attitudes and expectations. Sound advice, though at the time he was not particularly interested in the ramblings of an old Templar. He had seen for himself in these past weeks, and since the extinction of the Order at Kirkwall, just how accurate that statement was.<p>

He skillfully blocked a cleaving blow with his shield. The tarnished metal was adorned with deep scars and bore the tell tale pockmarks of more than one encounter with an Immolation spell. One such scar marred the top line of the shield - a chunk that had been effortlessly removed by Uldred. That one bothered him the most. Iit angered him into action in times such as these - not that he would need much coercion to raise a banner against a giant hole in the sky.

Parry, turn, block, and bring the blade down to sever the arm. He repeated these actions like a machine, occasionally eyeing his troops' status as he fought to bar the demons from taking the hill and overrunning the camp. It was like a dance, though he had never been one for dancing, one in which he could lose himself to his purpose.

"Commander!"

He struck the final blow to a hissing demon, stepping down on the horrid things' rib cage to loosen his sword. An eye turned toward the doorway where still more demons were spilling into this world, but he had time.

He straightened and cracked his back, loosening his shoulder a bit as he regarded the form of the Seeker Cassandra hurrying toward him. Solas, Varric, and someone he did not expect followed close behind her.

"What in the Fade is she doing here?" He growled, narrowing his eyes on the seemingly harmless woman. The subject of his ire retreated a step, eyes wide, taking comfort beside Solas. As expected. Mages cling to other mages.

"She is here to help, Commander." Cassandra replied swiftly. She showed no indication that she objected to her charge, nor that the woman possessed a staff - a weapon. It was only through her confidence that he managed to leash more foul behavior.

"Well, let us hope she actually can. Incoming!" He yelled past them, issuing orders to his remaining troops as another wave of demons descended upon them. Untrusting of the prisoner, he watched her very carefully and didn't stray far from her side. If she did choose to run, he would restrain her.

He hadn't expected to find her so...lacking. She fumbled with the staff, as if she'd never held such an object in her life, nor could she manage to mete out an adequate spell. THIS was their help? Oh, he would have strong words for Cassandra if they made it out of this alive.

"Drop it!" A voice sounded just behind him as he attempted to distract a demon from them. Solas, he realized, was taking the staff from the woman. "If you feel more comfortable casting with your hands, my friend, then do so. We cannot afford to be a mage down in this fight."

The Commander snorted. Give him Templars in trade for mages any day - especially the kind of mage that murders the Divine.

Clearly more apt casting simpler spells without a catalyst, the prisoner and the rest of the group made short work of the demons. It appeared that no more were coming through the tear in the sky, at least for the moment.

The Seeker sheathed her sword and, after a pause, so did he. Solas assisted the prisoner forward to the rift, held up her hand, and to the Commander's amazement, pulled closed the tear. Well, that was certainly something. He eyed the larger tear just through the destroyed temple's archway. "Can you close that and end all of this, then?"

"That is the plan, Commander, yes." Solas replied. The woman still looked at him with the wide eyes of fear. If she was a murderous apostate, then she well should be.

"Come, then. We've not much time." Cassandra spoke. She was almost gentle with the woman. "Are you ready?"

The prisoner nodded. "I will try my best." Her voice was surprisingly cultured. It was soft, mild, and lilted like the music from a harp. He had not expected that, nor the ease of his temper with it.

He caught the Seeker's eye and nodded. "Maker watch over you."

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><p>"You cannot possibly presume to keep her here! She's a criminal! Send her off to Val Royeaux and be done with it."<p>

"She can close the rifts. Do I need to explain again the benefit of such an ability when we are, if fact, attempting to do just that?"

"Regardless of either of your opinions, we cannot send her away. Leliana's point is valid, and now the people of Haven truly believe the woman to be the Herald of Andraste."

"We do not know that for certain. No one does! What if she simply manipulates us to further her influence over Thedas? What if murdering the Divine was the first step?"

An irritated sigh preceded a question. "Cassandra, you're the only one of us to have extended contact with her. What is your judgement of her character?"

The silence extended for a long while, so long that the woman listening on the other side of the heavy pine door almost gave up and entered despite the angst she would be exposed to.

"I...I do not believe she is responsible for what happened at the Conclave. Whatever she is, whoever she is, she is no killer. She cannot even manage a staff properly, nor utilize her powers adequately - at least from what I have seen in comparison with other Mages."

"I will concede that point," the Commander spoke, now calmer. "From my observations on the field, I agree that she could not have murdered the Divine on her own. That does not mean she did not have help."

There was a faint knock on the door, and the Commander had a sneaking suspicion that the weak, unobtrusive noise was indeed produced by the subject of their conversation. "Enter."

At first he did not recognize her. Gone was the unwashed waif he'd scrutinized three days before. In her place stood a woman of noble mien, albeit timid and shy. Just who was this mysterious creature? If she truly had nothing to do with the Divine's death, then what on earth was she doing at the Conclave? And why, he grumbled to himself, did he find her particularly becoming as she walked through the doorway and to Cassandra's side?

That would not do.

"I believe more formal introductions are needed, since our guest will be remaining with us for some time." Cassandra made a point of holding the Commander's gaze until she was certain he had heard and understood her. An almost imperceptible, stiff nod was the only response she got, but at least it was not the argument she had been expecting.

"Yes, introductions are overdue," Josephine took up her banner of amenability. "Welcome to the Inquisition, Herald of Andraste. My name is Josephine Montiliyet. I serve as our Ambassador - to placate the concerns of the gentry and those who might be concerned with our motives."

Recognition alighted in the woman's eyes, the Commander noted.

"Montiliyet? I believe my family has had dealings with yours in the past." The prisoner spoke and again he found himself fascinated by the sound.

"Just who is your family?" Josephine scribbled something on her board as she asked.

"My name is Evelyn. I come from House Trevelyan of Ostwick in the Free Marches."

Josephine nearly dropped her quill. "Trevelyan? You're a noble?" she squeaked, then seemed to reign herself in. Clearly she had not been expecting their prisoner, the Herald of Andraste, to be of noble blood. "Forgive me, my lady. May I send word to your family? I will inform them of your survival."

Trevelyan seemed at once relieved, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Yes, Lady Montiliyet, I would appreciate that very much." She hesitated. "Might you also add a note telling my father to stay put?"

"Of course." Josephine smiled. "If your father is Lord Adair Trevelyan, perhaps I should also send an emissary….and several gifts."

"Adair Trevelyan?" The hooded woman spoke, a smirk quirking up the corner of her mouth. "Indeed. I have heard stories."

The Commander felt decidedly put out. He recognized the name, but that changed little. He'd no patience for nobility. Were they to treat her like a princess, then? Were they to completely disregard her involvement in this recent mess?

Cassandra's voice cut into his thoughts as he began to feel the blood rushing in his ears. "This is Sister Leliana, the Left Hand of the Divine just as I am the Right."

Leliana nodded and smiled at Trevelyan. "I serve to protect our interests as quietly as possi-"

"She is a spy," Cassandra sighed, clearly not caring for the flowery words Leliana would drape about her profession.

"Yes. A spy. Thank you for your tact, Cassandra."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sister Leliana."

The Seeker ignored the ruffled spymaster, then turning to the disgruntled, stone-faced man who stood at the far end of the massive table. "And you have already met Commander Cullen," Cassandra stated thinly, watching him with an intent that told him to keep his mouth shut.

"Only for a moment on the field," he grumbled from between his teeth, quickly nodding toward the table. "May we get on with business? I need to see that our new arrivals actually know where to lay their heads tonight."

Trevelyan withheld her greeting. It appeared he would think little of it, anyway. She recognized him for what he was - a Templar. In the Ostwick Circle she has seen hundreds, if not thousands, of the Order's men and women cycle through. They were fairly easy to spot with their rigid stance and even more austere personalities. Still, she had never been in conflict with any of them until now. She might have even called some friends until the rumblings of the rebellion extended from Kirkwall to her Circle. Just why did he find her so intolerable? The uncertainty gnawed at her. She was unused to such open hostility.

She stood puzzling over him for a time as the others bent their heads over the array of maps and reports on the table. He was physically attractive, but he was an abrasive, unyielding man who was perhaps too keenly aware of himself and his standing. Prideful, she decided. Well then, he was not the sort she wanted to be around anyway. She swore to make herself scarce in his presence and avoid the cantankerous Templar at all costs.

Just as the vow completed itself inside her head did he look up, meeting her eyes for but a moment. Was that surprise? No. His expression morphed into a decidedly surly glare, and he quickly finished his piece and left the room.

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><p>"Blondy, it's fine. He's just got this giant stick up his ass."<p>

Cassandra snorted, bringing a hand up to muffle her reaction to the Dwarf's statement. "Varric, the Commander is not only well qualified, but he understands explicitly what we are up against. He has fended off a demon uprising at the Circle Tower in Ferelden, he was instrumental in keeping the peace during the abysmal happenings in Kirkwall, and let us not forget that he is the one who organized the Inquisition forces so expeditiously after the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

"That makes two grouchy warriors that need to pull their head's out of their asses," Varric muttered beneath his breath, though not nearly quiet enough for Evelyn to ignore.

She reddened at the language, momentarily trying to envision such a position and failing. "Still, Varric, I do not understand what I have done wrong. Surely if I approach him and apologize…"

"That will not work." Cassandra spoke, effectively cutting Varric off. "You have done nothing wrong. The Commander's own misgivings about you are his doing and his alone. He must change how he perceives you. It is a combination of his past as a Templar and his own personal experiences with mages."

"Way to be a great cheerleader, Seeker." Varric rolled his eyes, settling them on the rather pretty Herald of Andraste. Her pale, almost white-blonde hair hung over her shoulder in a simple plait, blue eyes shifting between the Seeker and the Dwarf with uncertainty.

"Whatever happened," Evelyn began carefully, "it was bad?"

"It is not for me to say, but I will let you know that he has good reason to be cautious. His spite is something I do not agree with. One mage might attempt to take your life, but that does not mean ever magic user in Thedas is a dangerous criminal."

Evelyn's spirits were bolstered by Cassandra's words. She had come to view the Seeker as a mentor, a teacher of sorts. Despite her rather blunt attitude, she was honest and listened to what Evelyn had to say although the Seeker was much more experienced in the field. It made her feel part of the Inquisition, though for the moment they were only keeping her for the value of the strange mark on her hand. At least with Cassandra, she felt as if she had some value beyond that.

"A mage tried to kill him?" she asked, expression forming into a frown, hand resting at the base of her throat. "Perhaps he did have good reason."

"I do not know the entire story, but yes. That is the long and the short of it."

"Dunno about you guys, but I have a feeling the faster we get these horses for the Inquisition the happier Curly will be. The Commander has been bitching about faster troop movement ever since we got that missive from Harding."

Evelyn looked around at the vast expanse before them as they meandered their way down to a small village. Large formations of granite reached up toward the cloudless sky, breaking up the young greenery in the distance. Early spring had arrived in the Hinterlands, and she would be remiss if she did not take the opportunity to enjoy herself. Flowers bloomed everywhere, a multitude of animals scampered out of their way, and while the sun was out there was still a coolness in the air that would make the long walk to Master Dennet's farm pleasurable.

If she were honest, she would say she was relishing in this experience. Although her Circle had dissolved some months before, Evelyn was still getting used to feeling the sun on her skin when it wasn't shining through a window. The feeling of fresh air and all of the sights and smells she knew she would keep with her for as long as she lived. For a Circle mage, getting out and seeing the world was a dream come true.

"This place is wonderful!" She exclaimed, turning round as she walked for a complete view.

Varric eyed the vacant homes, rotting and breaking thatched roofs, decrepit gardens, and the mud he was sloshing in up to his thighs and raised a brow at her wide-eyed fascination. "You know, you're acting a lot like a dwarf seeing the surface for the first time."

"Varric," Cassandra growled, "Circle mages rarely leave the confines of their towers. They get windows, but little else."

"The windows were barred shut on most floors," Evelyn spoke gently, still preoccupied with the scenery.

The Dwarf smacked his palm to his forehead. "Right. Sometimes I forget Circle mages get the short end of the stick. Scratch that- I'd like to forget. Hawke was lucky."

"Indeed, she was. It was risky living as an apostate, but she hid her talents well."

"Well enough to hide from the Chantry, eh Seeker?"

Cassandra glared at him, eliciting a petulant chuckle.

"Ah, that would be Fort Connor up ahead," Solas finally spoke, drawing Evelyn's attention back to the path before them.

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><p>Cullen had considered the wisdom of his decision in allowing the prisoner to leave with none in attendance but Cassandra. The apostate elf, he felt, would do little if she tried to make a run for it and he was always uncertain of Varric's motives.<p>

While he had no doubt of the Seeker's capability, he'd not had time enough to assess their newest mage addition to ascertain her abilities. So far her only recommendations were a murdered Divine, the Breach, and a conveniently misplaced recollection of events leading up to that entire debacle. The chaos was enough to set his teeth on edge. He enjoyed order - to a fault according to some. Back in Kirkwall he received countless manner of teasing from his subordinates, though by far his worst critic had been Hawke. The reckless, egocentric mage had called him everything from a "guilty prude" to "nug-humping altar boy". He could hardly keep the derisive snort from leaving him as his small contingent of soldiers prepared to move eastward from the Crossroads.

Hawke. He sighed, bringing up one hand to rub his temple. Frustrating though she was, he found he missed their heated little spats. Near the end of their association he would have almost admitted to being infatuated with her. It irked him to no end that he'd nearly fallen for a mage, but in all their time together he had come to see more than that in her, and that terrified him. If anything had happened to her, Maker forbid, would he have been able to do what was necessary to end her?

He wasn't sure.

A weight settled on his heart as he swung a leg over his mount, signalling to his men to begin their march. They would head eastward and cover ground in the opposite direction of Cassandra's party. It was Cullen's hope that they would make contact with the Templars in this region and be able to persuade them to the Inquisition's cause. While he had his misgivings about the leadership within the Order, the majority of the men were decent.

He nudged his black war horse with the heels of his equally black boots, urging the beast to climb a rather steep hill situated near one of their outposts. As the group reached the crest of the hill he paused, the smell reaching him before the sight of the huge black plume of smoke just off the road.

Maker.

"Fire!" He yelled, the rest of his contingent spurring their mounts after his own as he drove his stallion up yet another hill driving him straight into a group of Templars. They did not look particularly pleased. In fact, one swung his sword right at his mounts' chest causing him to quickly dismount and draw his own weapon.

"Desist!" He called, blocking yet another blow from the same man. "I'm not with the mages! I'm with the Inquisition!"

"Piss on your Inquisition!" Another yelled. "We will not be swayed from our duty to eradicate magic from the surface of Thedas!"

Ah, yes. This was going so very well. He grunted at another blow, glancing this time off his shoulder as he wished he'd had the sense to pull his shield off his horse. Just in time, however, his men joined in, taking but moments to put down the other Order deserters.

Disappointed though he was that the others had not survived their misplaced anger, his own gleaming sword was angled just so over the throat of the man who'd first engaged him. He wanted this man judged. Those of the Order were to be held to a much higher standard. It seemed this brute had lost sight of that. "Arrest him," he ordered quietly to his second who jumped into action. Only when the brute was sufficiently bound did Cullen remove his weapon, now looking at the skeleton of the farmhouse engulfed in flame.

There was a snap to his movements as he ordered his men to remain with the Templar and jogged to the door of the house, squinting his eyes against the brightness of the flame. It took two well-placed kicks to the weakened, locked door before it burst inward revealing a dozen or so bodies.

Mages. Maker…

He felt his eyes beginning to water from the smoke billowing around him, entering the home and purposefully moving toward the tangle of bodies. Dead. Dead. More dead. Damnit! His blood boiled in his veins. Desperation had him checking each un-moving body.

"Commander!" He heard the call somewhere behind him. Beams holding the roof cracked and sagged overhead. Please, Maker, if there's only one…

An answer to his prayers, she whimpered when he removed the dead woman from atop her small body. Not waiting for the roof to cave in and seal her fate, he swiftly tugged her from the floor and made for the door, exiting in time to hear a small pop and a crash as the far wall buckled beneath the weight of the frame.

Sucking in lungfuls of blessedly cool, clean air, he held the young girl in his arms, carefully looking her over.

She could not have been older than ten years, a slight thing. Her weight was featherish and concerning. How long had she been out here in the wilderness, practically starving to death?

"Commander?" He looked up at the fresh faced recruit, concern beetling his brow.

"My water skin." Cullen ordered, carrying the girl over to a woodpile far from the burning building. He propped her up against the unyielding detail, removing his gloves and taking the skin from the recruit. Having poured a bit of water into his palm to wet it, he gingerly began to wetten and removed the soot from around her nose and eyes so that she would not inhale more of the offensive and deadly matter than she already had. She stirred again, eyes fluttering open. He did not believe that she could discern his shape or any other. Her eyes were unfocused and bloodshot, but at least she lived. It was more than he could say for the others that had sought to protect her.

Again he felt the red haze of rage settle over him. Standing slowly, he told the recruit to watch her, thrusting the skin into his hands under the order that he was to give her the remainder upon her waking. It was then he stalked over to the suitably hog-tied man, the ring of steel sluicing through the air above the roar of the flames in the background. Sword drawn, Cullen stopped feet from the vile creature, eyes narrowed.

His voice was quiet when he spoke. "Did you set fire to this home?"

The thing spat, an inflaming chuckle bubbling from between his teeth. "There was a whole group inside! Got them magic-loving bastards in one g-"

The words were silenced. Cullen's sword lodged skillfully between the vertebrae of the man's neck. Naught but a disgusting gurgle left his vile mouth then.

"Put him on the fire with the others," he growled, wiping the blood off of his blade before re-sheathing it. Surveying the scene, the destruction, the brutality - this was why he left the Order. He could not abide such inhumanity.

He made his way back to the girl, pleased to see she had been roused enough to drink. Still bleary-eyed, she managed to sit up further as Cullen crouched to meet her.

"Thank you, ser," she managed, voice emerging as a croak. It wounded him, but he took solace in her still beating heart.

"No thanks are necessary," he reached out to ruffle her hair, a rare smile softening his expression. "You are safe with me."

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading, everyone! Favs, comments, and follows are welcome! Let me know what you think!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow! Thanks to everyone who followed my first chapter! It was a pleasant surprise and I am exceptionally grateful to you all. This next installment is a biggun'. Enjoy!**

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><p>Their two parties met at the Dennet holding later that evening after a rather trying experience as far as Evelyn was concerned. Upon approaching the farm they had encountered resistance in the form of a rift and the fact that Horsemaster Dennet was completely unwilling to allow the Inquisition to use his horses for their cause without fixing each and every one of his problems first.<p>

Cassandra had attempted to mitigate the situation, but the Seeker's urgency in the matter of procuring mounts caused her to tip their hand to the wizened farmer, who figured he could squeeze a bit more than coin out of the organization. He was a sly one, Evelyn would give him that. She once knew a mage who could pilfer a Templar's Lyrium by just shacking up to their ego for five minutes. Needless to say that didn't last long. Eventually he'd gone too far and no one had seen him again.

Evelyn's own upbringing allowed her to negotiate a bit better, not that she spent any meaningful time bargaining for anything but potion ingredients, but the concept and application were just the same. Eventually she had reasoned well enough with Dennet for the man to meet them halfway.

The tasks were simple in theory, though Evelyn suspected having watchtowers built would throw a kink into Cullen's rigidly smooth operating schedule. Well, if the blighted man wanted horses he'd have to pay. At least Dennet hadn't wanted to discuss the coin involved. Her knowledge of a fair price extended only so far as produce and then she was up a creek without a paddle.

Rifts, fade touched wolves, demons, a blighted lost druffalo, and several tower markers later Varric, Solas, Cassandra, and herself had secured mounts for the Inquisition despite nearly falling asleep in their saddles. It had been a trying day.

"It appears the Commander has finished scouting the Eastern fields," Cassandra observed with a tired sigh as a small group of soldiers rode toward them headed by the man Evelyn least wished to see at that moment. She was steadfastly choosing to ignore that he had left behind his dress armor in Haven in favor of a much more practical set that left very little to the imagination in regards to the build of the man underneath. Blue-black steel plate glinted orange in the light of the setting sun, his wavy hair set alight in a halo about his head.

Maker, that arrogant beast was beautiful.

Belatedly she noticed the tired look in his eyes and the two skinny arms wrapped about his waist as they slowed to meet Evelyn's group. She immediately recognized the young girl as a mage, though she'd just barely begun to show her abilities. It seemed that nothing had gone quite as planned for anyone today.

"I see you were successful," he spoke to Cassandra in that smooth voice of his, his eyes roaming over their horses. "Good. That's now one thing off of my mind."

Cassandra shrugged a shoulder. "Do not look at me. Evelyn handled the negotiations. Without her we would still be trying to entice that stupid animal back into its pen."

"Animal?" He queried, momentarily confused.

Evelyn moved to explain. "A farmer lost one of his druffalo in the canyon." She jerked a thumb behind her where the land-form began. "We had to bring it back as part of our payment to master Dennet. Luckily, druffalo like blood lotus and I happened to have some."

He regarded her with that unwavering, unnerving gaze of his as if he was trying to mentally dissect her. "I see." Oh that was it, was it? No thanks for the hard work? His manners were positively abominable.

She grumbled inwardly as the Seeker and the Templar moved to choose a place to camp and it was not much longer after that their small army had settled down for the night.

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><p>"And what's that one?"<p>

"That? It's called Silence, but I understand in Tevinter they call it Silentir. You see the bright star at the very tip of the tail?" Evelyn's long, graceful arm reached out to point out the part of the constellation she meant.

"Mhmm."

"Travelers use that star to tell them where they are and where they're going."

"How does it work? Don't stars move? Once...I remember my mamma telling me that she saw one shooting across the sky."

Evelyn turned her head toward the girl, trying not to feel guilty for the circumstances in which she now found herself. Torn from her mother and raised in a crumbling Chantry was not a proper way to rear young, inexperienced mages. "Some stars move, yes." She continued, attempting to leave the more sensitive topic behind. "But the reason they use that one is because it never moves. It hasn't since the Elves ruled Thedas."

"Wow...What's that one, Evelyn?"

The mage smiled, finding her own comfort in speaking with the girl. Just for a moment it felt like she was back in the Circle. It felt like home.

Cullen released the buckle to the last strap of his horse's bridle, listening to the pair speak. He'd not gone far from them. What with a fledgling mage and an alleged criminal in tow, he could hardly afford to become complacent. Despite his misgivings about her motivations, however, the ex Knight Commander found himself listening to Evelyn intently. She was quite learned and patient. Not once had he heard a complaint or felt frustration in her words. Truly, he was finding more and more difficult to envision her murdering an old woman in cold blood.

When his unit has first come upon their party he hadn't recognized the woman. Her soft, wavy hair had come free of its tie and floated about her heart-shaped face like a golden cloud. Even spattered with mud and twigs tangled in her hair, her sapphire eyes still shone with confidence. Then their eyes had met...Maker, he felt like he'd been struck by lightening.

But he'd been wrong before...

He belatedly realized the folly of his wandering thoughts when his mount took a step back and onto his boot. Swallowing a curse, he lightly swatted the animal with the reins, freeing his bruised toes almost instantly. He was about to inspect the horse's handiwork when Cassandra came upon him.

"I understand you are still lurking around Evelyn because you do not trust her."

"I don't trust any mage." He frowned. "Nor do I lurk."

"If you wish to know more of her, why not simply ask? She would be willing to explain her past."

"Mages lie, Cassandra. None of them are nearly as altruistic as they appear to be."

"Neither are you and I, Commander." She sighed, wanting to give him a good shake. Could he not see that this girl was simply not the guilty party in this affair? "Even if she is lying about herself and her intentions here, which I do not believe she is, she could not have killed the Divine. Nor," she skewered him with a pointed look, "do I believe that any self-respecting villain in this debacle would work with her."

"Is she that spoiled? Circle mages forever griping about imprisonment, but the second they no longer have their comfortable silks and hot meals they complain with a persistence that would try Andraste herself."

Cassandra suppressed a smirk. "No. She is actually quite considerate. I will just say that she has no grasp of offensive magic. She can create impressive barriers and heal wounds, but that is all. If the mark on her hand is some sort of weapon to us as well as the demons...I have not seen it wielded as such."

"So she's a healer?" he said slowly.

"And a damn good one if I say so, myself." Varric emerged from the shadows, giving the horses a wide berth. He didn't fancy getting kicked in the head. At his arrival Cassandra narrowed her eyes but said nothing, only causing the dwarf to bestow her with his characteristic smirk. He then turned his attention back to Cullen, growing a bit more serious. "Look, I know some bad shit has happened to you in the past, but don't take it out on Evelyn until you get to know her better." He paused. "Or don't take it out on her at all. That's a start." At the Commander's dubious look Varric decided to hit below the belt on this one. Evelyn was too sweet of a girl to have this prig hovering over her like a jailer. "She's like Hawke. She has good intentions despite being born with a connection to the Fade." At that Varric knew he'd at least some success in getting the Commander to consider. He could practically see the cogs turning behind those eyes of his.

"Well, I hate Templars." A small voice sounded back from where Cullen had been listening moments before.

"Oh? Why is that?" Evelyn replied, seeming genuinely curious.

"They hurt people like us." The girl said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and Evelyn had grown daft.

"Some do, yes. Not all Templars have bad intentions, though. Some truly do want to protect us."

"Not enough," the girl grumbled, settling into a sullen pout.

Evelyn smiled. "Templars are people just like you and I. If you dislike them all simply for their armor and not the person inside of it then you are just as guilty as they are of being prejudiced."

"I am not a Templar!"

"No. You're right. You're not a Templar. You are a mage. You have a responsibility to not carry on with all of the hatred that caused this mess in the first place."

The girl sunk further down onto the ground with a scowl. There was a moment where Evelyn weighed her options carefully, trying to get this child to see that everyone was in this mess together and they, Maker forgive them, were all in part responsible for the bad things that'd happened.

"You know the Commander is a Templar? An ex Knight Commander, in fact. You don't think he's a bad person, do you?"

Unbidden, Cullen's muscles tensed. The last thing they needed was a frightened mage who'd no control over her power.

"No...he's a good person," the girl relented much to Cullen's relief. "I wish every Templar was like him."

Evelyn smiled perhaps for the first time since Cullen had known her, and he could practically hear Varric's roguish smirk. "Told you so, Curly." Cullen looked down with a glare at the dwarf, who simply chuckled and walked over to the pair of mages, saying something quietly to Evelyn before offering to tell a story for the girl.

When Evelyn looked up she found Cullen watching her, though she couldn't place what he was thinking. At least he wasn't glaring at her she thought, strangely pleased. They watched (or as Varric might say, gazed at) each other for an expanse of time Cullen found he could barely recall passing before she turned away.

* * *

><p>The passing days saw the group finish the watchtowers Dennet had wanted so badly, and though the process was hopelessly boring for Evelyn, she knew that they would allow the remaining refugees in the Hinterlands some peace of mind. Currently they lay somewhere in the foothills of the Frostbacks, a place where winter was slow to relinquish its hold. Despite the lingering chill in the air, numerous flowers had begun to bud, smattering the snow in a delightful array of colors.<p>

The long trek back to Haven afforded the group some time to get to know each other. The Commander, she noticed, said very little. Then again, so did she. There wasn't much to tell. She'd been raised in the Circle since the age of nine and focused her talents on healing. She'd desired to help people, and the less attention she got from Templars the better. While she'd never had a problem, she suspected a large part of that luck had to do with the fact that she'd chosen an art that was defensive but also non-threatening. Mages who pursued their aptitude in more violent or harmful disciplines would garner much more negative attention.

"Where did you learn how to ride?"

The voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"Huh?"

Cullen's lips twitched as he almost allowed a smile, but instead he settled for a stern frown. "Where did you learn how to ride a horse? Circle mages are not usually allowed outside."

"Oh," Evelyn spoke quietly, feeling herself growing a bit nervous. How could she put this fairly without revealing too much? "My family, the Trevelyan's, we are known for our horsemanship." She realized with some dismay that they had separated from the group and were just ahead of the main party. How had that happened? That was what one got when daydreaming, she supposed.

"You still affiliate with them?" He asked, surprised. "Most families are all too eager to be rid of their magical offspring. It sullies the blood."

She brought her horse up short, fixing him with a glare that would have sent him straight to the Void had she the ability. He'd only gone ahead a short distance before he realized that she was not following. Turning around in his saddle, he looked at her as impassive as ever. It was as if what he'd just uttered wasn't the greatest insult she'd ever heard toward her person. "Well? Do you not agree?" He asked.

Her grip on the reins tightened, her knuckles white as she fought to calm herself down. Breathe, she chided mentally. Nothing would be gained from an argument. Still…

"As it happens," she began, her voice infused with the same scathing quality as her glare, "I do not agree with you, Commander. My family has very close ties with the Chantry despite every generation or so a child with magical abilities is born. It is understood that the Maker creates us all with specific intent and purpose. To deny it would be not only blasphemous but intolerant. Did not Andraste teach that such disdain for your fellow man serves as a corruptive force?"

Whatever he'd been expecting, it was certainly not a lecture on the values upheld in Andrastianism. Nor did he expect her to feel so protective of her family and defend them with such vehemence. Most mages he knew did not even remember their families or a time before the Circle.

Interesting.

"You still did not entirely answer my question." He said in reply, completely disregarding her.

"I believe I am done answering your questions for the moment," she said tightly before finding her way back to the bulk of their group.

* * *

><p>"Feeding your mare such things will make her ill. Did you not say your family were horse people? Surely you should know something so basic."<p>

The sound of his voice was like listening to a thousand rusty door hinges swinging open at once. It grated on her nerves like nothing else. Indeed, she'd thought her escape from their caravan rather stealthy but it seemed, she thought with a grumble, that she had overlooked his own need to secure his mount. Her blood was still heated from their earlier conversation, but she'd had some time to soothe herself. Enough, she hoped, that she would not strike him. Not that he didn't deserve it for practically calling her filth.

Hand balled into a fist, she let her mare lick the remainder of the tart from her opposite palm as if she'd not heard him. "A small treat now and then boosts morale, I think. Besides, she deserves a thank you for all of the work she's done today. I imagine a young mare like herself isn't used to cross-country treks."

Evelyn Trevelyan definitely did not fit into his well-ordered view of the world, he decided. That fact bothered him incessantly. The more he learned from her reactions to his spiteful nettling in addition to the talk amongst their members, he was finding it more and more difficult to place her at the center of their investigation into the breach.

He scoffed quietly at her explanation, leading his mount into his own stall before securing the gate tightly behind him. "Horses are bred for work in Ferelden and they do fine. You don't need to give them a stomach ache to soothe your misplaced guilt."

Ah, there is was. The subtle tightening around her eyes that signaled the impending glare he'd grown so used to these past weeks of travel in her company. Despite the animosity it cause between them, he found he almost enjoyed it. She struggled to keep up appearances of a well-bred, genteel kind of lady, but she was just another hot-tempered mage of noble blood that'd wound up in the Circle instead of a throne. He briefly remembered their conversation about just that. He still thought it odd her family would continue to make an effort to see her. They must be close, if nothing else. Surprisingly that brought a swift ache to his chest as his mind wandered to the well-being of his own family.

Perhaps he was being too much of a boor. Varric had been commenting more often than usual on his taciturn disposition. The dwarf might have been right in part, but it was not as if Cullen had an easy time of things since the rebellion in Kirkwall. The mage uprising had shaken the foundations of not only his faith, but his loyalty. How could he live with himself, knowing the atrocities that he'd allowed to happen directly beneath his nose? As if that wasn't enough, the Blight would forever remain etched into his memory. While he consciously remembered very little in detail, he could describe the things he felt with such a great degree of accuracy that even now he could feel the demon's breath on his neck.

A small shudder raced down his spine.

_Never, _he swore to himself. Never again would he allow magic to grab hold of him again. He would sooner fall upon his own sword.

"Do you not have somewhere to be?" He heard her voice, attempting to ignore the calming effect it has on his frayed nerves.

This small war they had waged between them served to keep his head clear, at least for the moment. "Actually," he spoke, legging up over the stall door, "we both should go. After all, you did a fair share of the work in the Hinterlands." Damn, did that sound like a compliment?

He began to walk away toward the main gate, leaving her simmering behind him. "After you," she growled beneath her breath. Before following, she marched straight to his horse's stall, lifted the beasts' upper lip, and shoved an entire tart between his teeth. "Between us," she threatened without much malice as she scratched the black's nose gently.

* * *

><p>Before she so much as stepped a toe over the threshold of the Chantry Leliana swooped down upon her like one of her many crows. "Evelyn, I'm glad you've arrived. I've been asked to transfer you to Val Royeaux to meet with the Chantry's judicial system."<p>

Evelyn suddenly felt like the room was devoid of oxygen. "W-what?"

Cullen stopped in his tracks just in front of the door to the war room and turned an ear to listen.

"It seems," she began apologetically, "that despite the lack of evidence of your guilt, they are willing to use you as a scapegoat to quell the rumors of your being sent by Andraste. I don't believe they mean you any physical harm but you are a mage and the citizens of Orlais are clamoring for justice."

"No." A voice said simply from just ahead. Cullen stood there in front of the pair, very clearly making his stance apparent.

Evelyn shook slightly. She knew what happened to mages amid the normal populace of Thedas. She would not survive the journey, much less the trial in Val Royeaux if they truly imagined her to have murdered the Divine. To her relief, Cullen seemed as reluctant to hand her over as Leliana.

"What am I to do, then? Any resistance on my part would put the Inquisition in a very tight spot."

Leliana inclined her head toward her, acknowledging the truth of those words. "Be that as it may, I agree with the Commander. We will not be handing you over to the Chantry. No one else has the ability to close the Fade rifts as you do, which is what we are trying to do in the first place.

In the low light the candles cast a myriad of distorted shadows across the occupants of the room. The furnishings seemed to blend into the thick stone walls surrounding them. Yet, she found much to her surprise, Cullen's amber gaze was holding hers firmly. There was something unreadable there. Had she the wherewithal to sustain more of his obnoxious baiting, she might have asked him.

"The Inquisition will retain its hold on you until we have found sufficient evidence of your innocence or guilt. Seeing as we have neither, I imagine the Chantry has little more to go on than hearsay. That makes their opinion rather impotent in my mind." Cullen spoke evenly, a look passing between he and Leliana.

They agreed, Evelyn felt, and she was momentarily thankful for the Commander's conviction on her part, even if he was a breath away from sending her off to the headsman's axe should he find the barest sliver of proof that she'd caused the explosion at the Temple.

Small blessings, she told herself as she took a deep breath.

"Now that bit of news has been settled, I received one more missive from the capital," Leliana said, ushering everyone into the war room.

"Oh goody," Evelyn spoke with an uncharacteristic bit of snark. "Is this one at least more fun than carting me off in shackles?"

Josephine stifled a laugh. Leliana's lip curled in a smirk.

"It is good to see you more comfortable, Lady Trevelyan," Josephine spoke with warmth. "Depending on your views, you may find this either better or worse."

Evelyn felt her stomach hit the floor. Worse that certain death? Maker have mercy.

"A few weeks ago you encountered the Lord Seeker in the capital. He seems...to have taken an interest in you. He doesn't specifically state his intentions, only that he wishes to meet with you at the Templar stronghold of Therinfal." Cullen immediately stiffened as Josephine continued. "It seems the remainder of the Templar forces have been ordered to gather there. For what purpose," she said slowly, "he will not say."

"My spies also cannot find a suitable explanation for their withdrawal." Leliana offered.

"That's suspicious," both Evelyn and Cullen spoke at the same time, their eyes linking to each others in the surprising moment of agreement.

"I find it difficult to believe that the Order would simply ignore the sheer number of dangerous apostates left out in the world." He forged ahead, aware that this required a great deal of tact on his part. That was not something he was used to. "When the Circles fell all mages, those good and bad were freed. Surely the order hasn't lost sight of their purpose entirely."

Evelyn nodded. "That's correct. Imprisoned magi were freed, many under false pretenses or through ignorance. While many mages are good and decent people, as with any faction, there are the criminals." She looked to the map in front of her, lips pursed together in thought.

Cullen was surprised he agreed with most of her sentiments. "Here," he moved one of the bronze pieces to a location on the map near the Bracillean Forest. "That is where the fortress stands." He scratched the few days growth of stubble on his jaw. "It's so far out of the way. I see no political benefits. There are few natural resources out there as well, unless one is willing to fight the elves for it. Beyond all of that it remains a crumbling castle of an age past. This is...strange."

Evelyn ran her fingers along the many roads and trails absently as she meditated on what Cullen had said. "They mean to plan something. If I know anything about Templars and Seekers, it's that they do not sit idle for long."

"Perhaps they are withdrawing to regroup in another attempt to round up the rebel mages?" Josephine supplied warily.

Evelyn shook her head slightly, surprising the Knight Commander as it corroborated with his own feelings on the matter. "They hand to march straight through the Hinterlands. If they sought to end the uprising they would have made their stand there." She looked up from the map suddenly, turning to Leliana. "I will go. Send word."

"If you mean to traipse into a stronghold full of Templars as a lone mage you are either the bravest person I've ever met or the dumbest." Cullen growled, placing both hands down on the table. He leaned forward, their eyes meeting again.

Despite the haughty glare she bestowed on him, she grudgingly agreed that she should not go alone. "If it smoothes your ruffled feathers, Commander, I have an idea if you'd be willing to listen."

He stood in stony silence which she took to mean she had the opportunity to speak. Again she looked down at the map, tracing a route along which fell several other markers they'd yet to address. "We will leave as soon as we've replenished our supplies, moving along this road until we reach Redcliffe. While there we should drop off extra supplies for the refugees as a gesture of goodwill wince we'll once again be scouring about in the Arl's backyard. It would also afford us the opportunity to check into this Grey Warden Leliana had mentioned. From there we should head North to the coast and meet with the Bull's Chargers. While I'm a bit hesitant to place any faith in a mercenary group, their muscle might be beneficial if we were to meet any resistance at Therinfal. If all goes well, we might recruit a Warden and a Mercenary captain which would increase our...leverage against the Templars. Perhaps we could even persuade the Lord Seeker to join our cause. If all else fails, we do have Cassandra who says she knows the Lord Seeker personally." She finished tracing the path with her forefinger, looking up at the Commander with a mixture of authority and uncertainty.

Was she asking him if he agreed with her course of action? To his unanticipated satisfaction, he absolutely did. "Bolstering our numbers is an excellent idea. Bringing the mages in our party might incite a conflict." Unbidden, a small smirk graced his lips. "You say 'we' like I will be joining you."

Evelyn leaned forward, arms crossed beneath her bosom. "Well Commander, I certainly would be the dumbest person in your acquaintance if I refused to bring a former Knight Commander with me to a whole nest of Templars." Her smile was positively full of daggers.

Touche, he thought. Perhaps she fit somewhere in this mess after all.

Leliana and Josephine shared a knowing look. "If the two of you are done flirting, we can finalize this course of action and I can send word ahead to the Lord Seeker that he should expect you within a fortnight." The redhead enjoyed herself immensely as the pair almost simultaneously straightened, pretending nothing of the sort had even happened.

"I'll see to the supply cache," Cullen said suddenly, striding from the room.

* * *

><p><em>It's a trap.<em>

_Trap._

_The Lord Seeker would not ask to see you after such a display in the capital. Do you deny it?_

_The Commander alone cannot protect you from the Seeker's reach. You must find more. _

_Yes, yes! To close the breach you must have more! They close off the Fade. they calm the veil. You must go and find more!_

She awoke with a strangled gasp and sat straight up in her bed, fingers flying to the necklace at the base of her throat. Her breath left her body in small white puffs, and it was only then she realized just how cold her room had gotten despite the blazing fire in the hearth. She'd grown used to the multitude of voices in her dreams, but never before had they been this active, nor this insistent.

"Find more Templars?" She whispered to herself, bringing up her scarred palm, twisting it around in the light of the fire. Her eyes widened. "That's right! They're perfect!"

* * *

><p>They set off the next morning with the chill of the Frostbacks blowing frigid wind and ice into their faces. The journey was long and arduous, and more than once Evelyn had seriously contemplated calling the expedition off. The voices would not leave her be. They urged her onward, offering advice and comfort when she struggled. She'd always been thankful for their unwavering guidance, but now so more than ever.<p>

As they backtracked to the Hinterlands they recruited a Grey Warden named Blackwall who was, Blessedly, a warrior and an experienced one at that. Cullen seemed a bit more relaxed with him around, and the two made fast friends. His mood plummeted when they found themselves meandering along the Eastern shore of Lake Calenhad, however.

A single black spire loomed in the distance upon their approach. "Is that Ferelden's Circle Tower?" Evelyn asked, unable to mask her awe at the sight of it. Maker, it was the largest building she'd ever seen! How many mages could they fit it there?

"Yes," Cullen said tightly.

She frowned at his ire, but was glad that Blackwall stepped in to regale her on the tower's considerable history. As they neared the crossing point Blackwall had mentioned, her hand dropped to her necklace as she took in the massive smoking ruin before them.

"Maker...what happened here?"

"This was the start of it," Cassandra spoke softly as she rode up to join them. "Many will say that of the rebellion in Kirkwall, but that was simply pushing the issue of mage abuse over the precipice it already lingered on. This was a diverse and populated Circle, and it has seen many tragedies." She spoke with such finality that Evelyn dared not ask more. She would have to find more on the activities here at a later time. When they spurred their mounts onward, they noticed that Cullen had not stopped , his eyes fixed determinedly forward.

For all the questions that evening had arisen in her, she lay them all in the back of her mind as the party finally reached the Storm Coast. There they'd managed to recruit the Bull's Chargers along with their leader The Iron Bull. The Qunari was intimidating at first, but Evelyn soon found he was an emotionally gentle sort, despite having quite the...colorful personality. His men livened the party as they pressed Eastward toward Denerim and cut down a Southward road that would lead them straight to the redoubt.

"We should go over our plan before we hail them," Cullen spoke, pulling his horse around to ride alongside Cassandra and Evelyn. He looked back at their numbers, satisfied with their bulk and now feeling a bit more confident of their odds should something go amiss. Although he did not think the Templars would directly assault the Inquisition, the actions of those in the Hinterlands had him wondering just what the devil the Order had been up to.

"Cassandra, you take Blackwall and Bull and stay close to us. Evelyn," he gestured her over, holding out an arm, "get on."

She blinked hesitating a moment before swinging a leg over her saddle, gripping his arm and settling into his saddle behind him. "You don't trust them," Evelyn observed, one arm wrapping about his waist to balance herself.

"I won't until I know exactly why you were asked here. If their intentions are noble then we will chalk this up to my overly paranoid personality."

She snorted, covering a laugh with her free hand. "The truth is spoken at last."

He shot a quelling look over his shoulder before giving orders to the rest of their detachment to follow only so far as the drawbridge. Too many of them might be viewed as an offensive force.

Their group carefully picked their way toward the crumbling fortress. The closer they came, the more Evelyn was aware that something was very, very wrong. "Do you feel that?" She asked low, gripping his shoulder as they passed beneath the great archway and into the outer walls of the keep. The veil here was so thin she could almost feel it trembling in the air around them. Any Templar should be able to feel a shift as great as this.

"Yes. Someone has been tampering with the Veil here…"

Thankfully on the same page, the pair dismounted along with Cassandra and the others and were rather graciously accepted into the inner courtyard by an initiate who had belatedly recognized Cullen's name.

"Uh, Knight Commander! Apologies. I didn't realize it was you."

When the initiate had finally shown them to someone with authority, again they were greeted graciously.

"Lady Trevelyan," This one spoke respectfully, a short bow following. "Forgive the ill timing. But the Lord Seeker is unable to meet you at this time. He has asked, while you wait, if you would please raise these banners."

"Raise banners?" Bull snorted. "This is a goddamned waste of time."

Both Cullen and Cassandra seemed suspicious. "It seems," Cassandra began, "that the Lord Seeker wishes to determine your priorities."

"So, I just raise them, the highest being that of the most importance?" Evelyn asked the remaining Templar.

He nodded, and regardless of Bull's whining Evelyn set to her task. The banner for the people rose the highest, its crimson threads shining brightly in the late sun. The Templars followed, and lastly the Evelyn, people came before religion. If they didn't care for those who worshiped, then who would worship?

Satisfied with her decisions, she turned back to the Templar who simply nodded. "The Lord Seeker will see you now."

The uneasy feeling intensified as he led them across the soggy courtyard, eyes of nearly a hundred Templars watching her every move. It almost felt like the day of her Harrowing, though she was much less nervous back then. What was going on here?

The very moment they stepped into the darkened room Cullen had drawn his sword and stepped in front of Evelyn. "What is the meaning of this?" He growled, eying the lone occupant on the other side of the room. He was hard to make out. The single torch burning behind him casting barely enough light to silhouette his figure.

"The Lord Seeker wishes to speak to the Herald of Andraste. Alone." At the last word he grinned, showing a flash of white teeth. Evelyn thought the expression rather wolfish.

"There is no reason for him to make such a request. Whatever they wish to discuss should be discussed in front of an adviser of the Inquisition."

She felt it in the Veil before she heard it. "Cullen…"

There was a loud crash from above just before the stranger across the room made way for several other Templars to enter. Immediately Evelyn wobbled unsteadily on her feet, the beginnings of a Holy Smite sapping the very energy from the room.

"Cassandra, get her out of here! Blackwall, guard them!" Cullen ordered, bashing an oncoming Templar with his shield while Bull swept low, knocking the rest off of their feet. Cassandra and Blackwall dragged her from the room, but the moment they were out she stumbled over to a corner to retch. The entire room was spinning, the ground moving under her feet like the waves she'd seen at the coast.

"Drink," Cassandra ordered, holding a vial of Lyrium up to her lips. Gratefully she downed the elixir, regaining some semblance of balance.

"To your feet, lass," Blackwall ground out, cutting down a Templar that rushed down the hall after them.

She struggled to get up, Cassandra forcing another vial into her before she began to blink away the vertigo. They were moving down the hall, sounds of fighting rang in her ears from every direction.

"The Templars have gone mad! We need to find the Lord Seeker and demand an explanation for this trespass!"

"If we make it out of this Blighted keep alive I will personally run the bastard through!" Blackwall agreed.

As they pressed on Evelyn was able to move on her own. They rushed the stairwell, the weakened mage trying her best to shield her companions from Templar great swords. They'd just broke through into the second courtyard when Cullen and Bull joined them, the Commander with a bloodied lip but otherwise none the worse for wear.

"The way to the main hall is up those stairs," he pointed above them, "If we are to survive we must run through them. Evelyn will not Survive another smite." He looked at her to affirm his assessment and found it to be distressingly accurate. Her skin was pale, her stance unbalanced. He could feel her reaching for her powers, but frustratingly unable to grasp them. Although many mages would have let that be the end of their efforts, there was a determination in her eyes that endeared her to him in that moment.

As with many things, he'd been wrong about her.

"I will be fine. I just need more time for the Lyrium to soak in," She explained, following Cassandra to the base of the stairs.

There they spied a pair of Templars engaged in a skirmish with a captain Evelyn was surprised she recognized. "Ian!" She called.

The captain bashed one of the men with his shield and used the opportunity to cut down the other. While the first miscreant was stunned from the blow, he pushed the tip of his sword into the man's belly.

Evelyn ran forward before Cullen could stop her, but his concern was unneeded. The captain lifted his face guard and grinned with some measure of confusion down at her. "Senior Enchanter? What the devil are you doing here? This is the last place I'd expect you to be!"

"Long story," she breathed deeply, trying to not show weakness. "First, what do you know about the Lord Seeker?"

His grin faded quickly into a scowl. "He's brainwashed some of our Order." The captain's eyes lifted to take note of her companions, inclining his head to Cullen. "If you are heading in his direction, I can help you get there. I was going that way myself."

"It would be much appreciated," Cullen spoke softly, but not without malice. He was certainly more pissed off than Cassandra had ever seen him.

Nodding again, the captain turned and lead them upward into the bowels of the keep. They met with heavy resistance, but Cullen was pleased to note that they had allies within the Order who remained true to their vows to protect and serve the people of Thedas. His blood boiled at the notion that the Lord Seeker would simply lure them here to kill them. With the entire order at his disposal, what was he hoping to accomplish? Nothing good, surely, if such chaos as this was to come of it.

Regardless of their growing number of supporters Cullen did not wish to waste any more time than necessary in apprehending the Lord Seeker. They left the bulk of the Order behind them, skirting the small melees with ease. It was after rounding a corner to the main stairway that Evelyn clapped her hands to her ears.

"What the?"

_I would know you, _it whispered with perverse glee. Skirting the edge of her mind with relative ease. A demon...A demon had infiltrated the Order.

"This is bad…" she trembled.

Cullen placed a hand on her back. "Breathe. Take it easy." He'd forgotten that she was not a warrior like the rest of them, and subsequently had very limited physical stamina.

"Ah, there you are."

Cullen's head snapped up, shield poised in front of Evelyn while Cassandra and the rest of their party took up stance around her. The Lord Seeker walked slowly down the steps toward them with a nonchalance that set the Commander's teeth on edge.

This smug creature had perverted the Order- turned them against their true purpose.

The Lord Seeker completely ignored them all but for Evelyn, whom he fixed his hungry gaze upon. "Evelyn Trevelyan. Herald of Andraste. Senior Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle of Magi." He laughed darkly. "I would know you."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello my friends! Again, thank you so, so much for the favs and follows. An even more enthusiastic thank you for the reviews! I apologize for the slight delay in the distribution of this installment. **

**As a side note, on my profile I have gathered together a list of songs that have inspired my writing of this story. I plan to add more as I go along. If you're interested in having a listen, please click on my username to be redirected to my profile. Each song is labeled according to character or scene. **

**Thanks again for taking the time to read! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Awareness came upon her a bit like waking up from a dream. Heavy lidded, her eyes opened slowly to reveal a dark, dank place. Before she moved she made a quick assessment of herself. Toes? Still there. Fingers? She brought her hands up in front of her face and wiggled them, ignoring the dim green flash of the mark on her palm.<p>

Well, she appeared to be in one piece, she mused as she pushed herself up from the gritty, wet floor. Another more detailed look about the room from this vantage point didn't really give her any more information about her location. What had happened?

A grumble of frustration set her to rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands in a vain attempt to massage away the slight ache there. Templars, she remembered, slowly repeating events in her head. Still, she could not remember how exactly she'd come to be here - wherever here was. She only knew that there had been fighting and that sick taint in the air that signaled the presence of a demon. Perhaps they'd smote her again and tossed her in the dungeon?

Even to her that seemed unlikely. Why capture her when they seemed set on killing her? Something was afoot at Therinfal and it was much bigger than either she or Cullen had anticipated. With a demon loose and the Order sitting about on their hands she highly doubted things were as cut and dry as she would have preferred them.

"Let's see…" She opened up her senses, ones she normally kept tightly leashed around others. Her strong connection to the Fade was disconcerting for many. As a child, she'd quickly learned how to mask and suppress her contact. Spooking people whenever she entered a room was not something she wanted to live with, despite the comfort she took in the strange place most only visited in their dreams.

Although she personally found the Fade to be a fascinating place, it was not without its perils. Demons lurked in dark corners, waiting with gleeful malice for an unwary trespasser to take a wrong turn, ask a wrong question. It would not be her.

Ah, yes. There it was. Mentally reaching through herself, she found the fabric of the Veil and pushed through it. She smiled to herself, pleased at the familiar connection to a place that was so intimately tied to her being. With this she would be able to ask for help from the spirits should she run into any trouble. She was not fool enough to believe she could quit this place with only her healing and barrier spells.

Feeling prepared now, she stepped off the wide stair on which she'd awoken and into bitingly cold ankle-deep water.

A shiver skittered up her spine as she grit her teeth against the sensation. "Stiff upper lip," she ground out, quoting her father. Pressing onward, she sloshed noisily through the empty stone room and reached the other side. Evelyn got the feeling she was missing something important

Pushing open the heavy door she entered another room such as the one she'd just left behind. Its similar- no - identical configuration immediately causing her to become guarded. Turning around to look back from where she came, she was displeased with the discovery that the door she'd only just walked through had gone - and was again on the far side of the room.

"I see." She breathed slowly. Now she was beginning to understand. Whatever manner of demon that had infiltrated the stronghold was targeting her. If her growing suspicions were proven true, then it would seem that was its intent all along.

Her mind was sent scrambling for a solution - a way to remove herself from this place. This wasn't the Fade, but it was clearly a space the demon had some measure of control over.

_Herald_

A whisper at the fringes of her mind, grasping onto her consciousness with sharp little claws.

Evelyn suppressed a snarl. It was trying to get in. She could feel its thick, slimy presence on the energy in the air pressing up against her as if it could pass right into her flesh.

Praying to the Maker for strength, she studiously began to recite the Chant of Light. Quick and determined steps had her forging her way once again across the room, the damp pulling at the hem of her layered robes. This time when she passed through the doorway, the room ahead was different, several columns lined the walls and in between lay heaps of burning corpses.

Lovely.

Really, demons could be such charming creatures.

She picked her way around the charred mounds of flesh and bone, covering her nose with her sleeve. Then, peering through the smoke, she made out two shapes. One of which she was growing quite accustomed to seeing around.

"Cullen!" She dashed forward, smoke blowing past her face until it revealed the Commander and Josephine. They just stood there, looking at her, and once again Evelyn felt the stirrings of unease in her gut.

These were illusions. She chided herself on her childish naivete. It was trying to trick her - to lure her into some manner of trap.

As if on cue, a wet-sounding cackle emanated from the space behind the frozen likenesses of her advisers and _something_ wearing Leliana's skin sauntered forward into the open. Evelyn immediately shuttered her expression. She could not allow the demon to elicit a reaction from her.

"I picked these shapes from your mind," it spoke (rather conversationally, she thought). "Do they put you at ease?"

Grinning, it drug its forefinger along the line of Josephine's jaw, nails lengthening quickly to leave a trinity of long slashes along the Antivan's graceful throat. The image did not waver at the assault. Then turning its attention to the Commander, it watched Evelyn very closely. The scrutiny unnerved her. Something in its eyes was knowing, calculating. What has she let it see already? She wondered.

"What about this one?" Its words vibrated throughout the room as it teased the Commander's hair - Something Evelyn had once momentarily fantasized about when he was being particularly straight laced. Just to annoy him, of course. Maker...it really had picked her brain.

A knowing grin revealed sharp teeth, warping Leliana's face into a horrible monstrous snarl. Seeming to already know the answer to its question, it used those same needle-like teeth to rip into the Commander's throat, sending the visage tumbling to the stone floor in a growing pool of gore.

Evelyn tried to keep her hands from balling into fists. What point was it trying to make?

Demon and mage regarded one another for a time with steely focus, neither willing to concede. The demon, however, possessed little virtuous matter, and lost patience quickly. Images of the advisers disappeared as it gathered itself for another attempt to discern her motives.

Evelyn realized that it knew facts, faces, but it didn't know her. Well, that was...something. She wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth with a demon skulking about.

"Won't you tell me?" It breathed in her ear. She had to stifle a shriek at its sudden appearance and proximity. It wore Cullen's skin this time. It spoke with his voice.

"Tell me what you think," it breathed, brushing aside her hair as lips ghosted against the back of her neck. "Tell me what you feel." His hands - its hands came around her and she twisted, shoving at the apparition to free herself from the deadly circle of its arms.

Her breath was unsteady, cheeks flushed, and the image of the Commander smiled cruelly at her then faded away.

Oh, this thing was playing dirty. Deciding the best course of action was to limit their time together, she hurried from the room before it could manifest again. In the next, and each room after, she saw images of herself doing things and saying things she would never dare. It disturbed her and set her on edge. She'd dealt with demons before, but none specifically tried to ferret out personal information. Most were only keen on overpowering her. This attempt to slip into and under her skin made her feel dirty. She needed out.

Not realizing she had broken into a run, she came to an abrupt halt at an intersection of halls. The one ahead was blocked by some manner of contraption that blasted water down onto the floor with such force that she knew attempting to pass would be a great miscalculation.

_Maker, help me…_

Her plea traveled across her connection to the Fade, and an answer came unexpectedly.

"You're hurting. I want to help you."

She spun, looking around the room behind her, half-expecting to see the demon once more. Nothing. She turned slowly back toward the obstacle, nearly jumping out of her robes at the sight of the young man before her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

She waved a hand in front of her, attempting to catch her breath. She recognized this being as a spirit, not the demon who was tormenting her. Being familiar with such creatures, she felt almost at ease.

"It's fine. I'm just a bit jumpy."

"Envy wants to kill you. He wants to hurt you and take your skin. He wants to wear it and hurt others. I don't want that to happen."

"Who are you?" A loud voice bellowed from overhead. "Get out! She is mine! This is my place!"

"Come." The boy held out a hand and Evelyn grasped it as he pulled her upright.

"What is your name?" She asked curiously as she followed him to the barricade which he easily removed with a flick of his wrist.

"Cole." He replied, looking back to make sure she followed. "What's yours?"

She smiled. "Evelyn. Who named you Cole?"

"I had a friend once."

That was all he offered her as they passed out of the dark underground structure and into the light. Immediately she recognized this space. "Therinfal?"

"Yes and no. Envy has taken images from your mind. It wants to learn how you react- what makes you happy and what makes you sad."

"So…" she began, carefully attempting to connect the dots, "this is all in _my_ head? It's not some kind of dream or rampant hallucination?"

"Yes"

"How exactly am I supposed to get out of my own head?"

"You don't. We push Envy out. Then it will hide. Then we can stop it." Cole spoke with easy conviction.

"How do we push it out?"

"We go to where you are. Come on. It's not far now."

It was daylight, but the keep was shrouded in a dense fog. It made the whole place a bit eerie for her taste. Still, she followed Cole up and up, stairs stretched out before them as she began to recognize her path as the same she had taken with Cullen before…

Maker!

It all came rushing back to her now.

Envy had possessed the Lord Seeker! Now he was trying to get her as well. What were the others doing? Did they even know?

She hurried her steps, eager to be away just as a shadow fell over the stairway.

A laugh that could only be described as maniacal echoed off of the keep's stone walls and reverberated in her chest. "I'll get there! I'll get him! Then I will put you down!" It cackled again, a dark shape bounding past her.

A heavy stone of dread began to ache in her stomach. Finding a strength she hardly knew she possessed, she ran past Cole, keen on getting to the last flight of stairs. Turning the corner she didn't stop, readying a spell as she careened forward into a faintly shimmering rift in the air. She hoped she wasn't too late. Maker, no, she prayed.

"No!"

Life surged back into motion and color as she spun around on her heel, barely deflecting the Lord Seekers sword with a barrier as it arced down toward Cullen's neck.

The rest of her party blinked, momentarily surprised before moving into action though the Lord Seeker moved well out of range. He wore a grin that split the human mask he was wearing from ear to ear. Sharp teeth dripping and gleaming like daggers in the light.

"I knew it! I _knew_ it!" It cackled insanely, pieces of its human skin beginning to fall away.

Cassandra seemed too stunned to move, but Cullen surged forward, swinging upward to catch the demons belly, but again it escaped.

"I knew! I knew!" It shrieked, blowing through the doors to the main hall with a final lingering cackle.

Evelyn sank to her knees, palms spreading out on the stairs before her as she gasped for air.

"The Lord Seeker has been possessed by an Envy demon?" Cullen growled, the anger simmering plainly beneath his skin. He walked back down the steps toward her.

"Y-yes." She breathed, pushing up from the stone to stand. "I saw…" She shook her head. Never mind with the details for now. "It wants power. It was going to take the Lord Seeker's shape but now it wants me instead."

"You?" He snorted, incredulous. "Why?"

She held up her hand, the one scarred with the mark. "This, maybe. Fancy he thinks he could bring a few of his friends through."

If possible, Cullen's expression darkened further, and he was beginning to show that intensity in his gaze that had her literally shaking with fear the first time they'd met and it'd been entirely directed at her. If there was one thing she knew for absolutely certain, it was that getting on Cullen's bad side was very dangerous.

"Let's go," he said with such command it brooked no argument. The party fell in behind to follow

With any luck, Evelyn thought, they would find more friendlies inside the main hall willing to help them with the Envy demon.

* * *

><p>Turns out that was a whole lot of wishful thinking on her part.<p>

While the Envy demon had, for the moment, gone into hiding their party was left with a room not full of Templars eager to assist in banishing the foul thing, but Templars attempting to murder them all with some very frightening red spiky bits protruding out of their bodies.

Evelyn had staggered a moment, not sure if she was simply seeing things, or if there were actual _stones_ growing out of that man's head.

Cullen seemed to have no such questions, as he was moving into action the moment he realized these creatures were a threat. The rest of their little group followed suit, warriors all with shields held high except for Bull who seemed to thrive on the danger of confronting an army of mutant Templars without any protection at all as if it were oxygen.

Evelyn reached for her connection to the Fade once more, finding comfort in the stability it gave her abilities as she conjured a barrier spell. Blue eyes scanned the room.

One wiry little beastie scurried forward on legs bent at entirely the wrong angle. Despite the deformity it was surprisingly nimble, lashing out with arms made of sharpened red _something_ in Bull's direction. Flicking her wrist, Evelyn blocked the blow to Bull's unguarded side with ease, glad that this new substance wasn't able to bypass her defenses.

"Thanks boss!" Bull yelled, turning quickly onto the thing and crushing it bodily beneath his war hammer.

The crunch must have been satisfying despite the turn it gave Evelyn's stomach, for Bull giggled like a spoiled little child and rushed to meet a much larger and more dangerous looking adversary further inside the hall.

Her eyes tried to follow the unarmored Qunari, concerned about his lack of shield and armor as she was, and did not notice the Templar creature sneaking up on her flank. Her preoccupied daze was abruptly broken as she was forcibly jerked backward, Cullen's shield blocking a hit aimed at her as his sword swung sideways to catch the enemy at the hip.

Maker, she hadn't' even realized either of them were near.

Thoroughly disabled by the hacking, the easy task of dispatching the thing brought Cullen around to face her with a frown. "Your eyes need to keep moving around you during a fight."

She felt a blush creep up her neck and into her cheeks. "Right. Sorry." His criticism was valid, much as she might've hated to admit it, but he made no move to further scold her while easily cutting down another creature.

As Ian's party rejoined them the fighting came to a swift end, and Cullen strode over to her friend looking for all the world like he was going to hit him. Instead she was pleased to see he was taking a much more, if not a bit growly, diplomatic course of action.

"You have five seconds to tell me exactly why Red Lyrium is growing out of the floor _and _your brothers and sisters."

"I- I uh…"

Impatient, Cullen brought a hand up beneath the neck guard of the Templar's armor, lifting Ian straight off the floor. The ex Knight Commander had a hard set to his jaw and the promise of death glittered in his eyes.

Perhaps diplomatic wasn't the right word.

"One"

"I don't know anything! I only just arrived a few days ago!"

"Two!"

"I swear! I swear I don't know what they were doing!"

"Not good enough! Three!"

"Our superiors disappeared the moment we arrived! I promise, I don't know what they were about. None of us did!" His voice had risen considerably in his fear.

Cullen seemed to consider this as he lowered the young man to the floor onto shaking knees.

Evelyn had forgotten how young Ian was. His first assignment had been in her circle at only 16 years of age. While he hadn't sworn vows until some years later, he worked closely with the Knights there. That would make him…

He was perhaps eight years her junior.

Twenty? Twenty-One?

In an effort to ease some of the tension, Evelyn walked up and stood at Cullen's elbow, deciding to shift the conversation to what she felt was a more pressing matter than assigning blame.

"Cullen, could you please enlighten me as to what Red Lyrium is? Are we in danger by standing here?"

He glanced over his shoulder to her, surprised to see her so near after his outburst. Taking a breath, he looked to where the long spindly growth of the stuff jutted toward the ceiling. "Possibly. It is tainted Lyrium. It was, among many things, a reason for the bizarre and dangerous behavior of the former Knight Commander in Kirkwall."

"Meredith? This stuff made her crazy?"

"That's what I believe after the story Varric and Hawke told me." He quickly looked back to Ian, his amber eyes boring into the youth like a hand drill. The young man flinched. "You said that your superiors isolated themselves after you arrived?"

"Yes." He looked around. "There are no senior members of the Order left here. At least that's how it appears."

Cassandra quickly did her own cursory assessment. "He is telling the truth. Only Templars remain here. I find it hard to believe all officers submitted to _this_." She toed the corpse of one such creature. Riddled with the tainted Lyrium as it was, the armor it wore designated it as a former Lieutenant.

Another Templar stepped forward identifying himself as Ser Barris, standing just to Ian's side. "I arrived here with Knight Captain Wystan two weeks ago. Almost the moment we arrived he and the Lieutenants were separated from the rest of us to go meet with the Lord Seeker. We caught glimpses of them, but it seemed…" He glanced to Ian a moment before returning his attention to Cullen and Cassandra. "It seemed like they were ignoring us. I don't know if you had knowledge of Wystan, but he was a good an honest man who cared about his subordinates. His behavior was completely out of character."

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, silently counting backward from 100 in his head. Good man or no, Wystan allowed himself to be influenced by whatever was going on here. He briefly thought back to the Envy demon. Did Templars assume they were impervious to the whims of demons, and that mages were the only beings susceptible? When had the Order become so lacking in its education?

"You are certain no one of higher rank remains within the keep?" Evelyn's voice was the only sound in the hall.

"I am not positive but-"

"Then we need to be absolutely certain. The demon that is causing this mess is Envy. It is an ancient and powerful being. Forgive my saying so, but if we encounter this demon with only a handful of low-ranking Templars we will probably all perish."

Cullen frowned. She was a Circle mage and worked closely with Templars, yes, but just how much did she know about the Order? Many mages simply didn't care - only seeing them as jailers to be despised.

To his surprise Ian and Barris conceded her point, the latter speaking with a confidence that denoted his high rank of birth. "An intelligent course of action. There may still be men resisting the demon's influence." He nodded to the side of the hall where a massive oak door stood. "Through there is a small courtyard that leads to the Western battlements. It's not a very large area to sweep. If you and your fellows search there, I will take my own group to the Eastern side. We meet back here and discuss Envy after we are sure we might not be receiving more help."

Evelyn nodded, looking to Cassandra. "Let's go." Then she turned to Cullen. "I'm going to leave Blackwall and Bull here to help defend the hall should any more of those...things show up. I'd prefer you were with me. I don't doubt a senior member of the Order will take one look at me and begin to assume I might have something to do with this."

Strange that Cullen felt like she was accusing him of something horrible while paying him a compliment. A noble indeed.

"Of course. Let's see if anyone capable of reason is left in this crumbling ruin."

They had settled on some kind of truce, Evelyn decided. No longer sniping at one another, attempting to kind fault in each other's actions, they seemed to be trying to work together. It was obvious he still found her lacking in value on the battlefield and would no doubt criticize her later, but she was oddly appreciative of his methods. She could see the tension straightening his shoulders and making his spine rigid. He was furious and no doubt would think it much easier if they were to simply paint this problem in black and white, deal with Envy, go home, and leave the Templars to their fate.

The fact that he was trying to be civil and listen to her probably made her more accepting of him than she should have been, given his low opinion of her.

Moving into the courtyard they encountered a few more mutated Templars, but the fight was nothing the Commander and the Seeker couldn't handle between them. Despite their difference in faction and rank, the two appeared to work together seamlessly, and for a moment Evelyn wondered just how close the two were.

Further examination of that thought was cut abruptly short as an arrow whizzed past her head and into the neck of the only remaining creature. It startled Cassandra, who immediately looked past Evelyn to ascertain any threat. If Cullen had been surprised by the sudden arrow, he gave no indication.

"Andraste's blood, Evie! What are you doing here?"

The sound of that voice almost caused her to sink to the ground in relief. Instead she spun around just in time to catch his jump from the roof and onto the ground as he greeted her with a smile. She wasted no time in launching herself into his arms, her own tightening around his neck like a vice in her fierce hug. "Peter!"

He hugged her in return, giving her body a slight squeeze before setting her on her feet. "Sister, I am serious. What are you doing in a keep chalk full of crazy Templars?"

"A long story, believe me."

"Sister?" Cassandra spoke, the tone of her voice demanding answers more than her words.

Peter turned toward the Seeker with a benign smile, revealing the the insignia of a sun fixed with an eye at the center emblazoned on his armor. "You would be correct." He gave a small mod. "I've heard about you Seeker Pentaghast. I thank you for rescuing my sister from the Conclave."

Cassandra didn't bother to correct him on his use of the word "rescue."

He rounded on Evelyn with a frown. "For which I will still not forgive you. If ever you feel the need to give me another heart attack, please wander into a wyvern nest or something. It'd be safer than with a bunch of spoiled politicking idiots thinking they know what's best for Thedas."

She looked perturbed, her eyes flashing angrily for a moment before she nodded. "I'll have to go looking for a proper wyvern nest if I am not to disappoint."

Again he flashed a smile.

"And," Cassandra continued, ignoring their conversation, "You are a Seeker."

"Oh, right." Peter waved a hand as if to brush away his title. "Seeker Peter Trevelyan. Third son of Adair Trevelyan and Louisa Arscott."

Cassandra's eyes seemed to widen a moment as she looked at Evelyn. "Now I understand why your name seemed so familiar to me. Your family has very close ties with the Chantry."

Evelyn smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes. "You could say that."

"While our political ties are, I'm sure, very fascinating, I believe we have a much larger problem here." He looked around at the courtyard littered with Templars and Lyrium-riddled bodies. "While I arrived only hours ago, I observed several troubling occurrences. First, the Templars here are ingesting this red form of Lyrium. It causes them to go absolutely bat-shit crazy and turns them into some Blighted kind of creature as you've seen. Second, something is clearly wrong with the Lord Seeker. Though I'm certain there is no shortage of people who would line up to beat him over the head with a brick, I doubt head trauma is causing his paranoia and obsession with the Order. He was not partaking of the Lyrium either."

"He's possessed by an Envy demon," Evelyn offered as she watched Cullen pace the yard. Tainted Lyrium given to Templars who depended on the substance to survive. That was a special kind of twisted. She wondered if the officers knew what it would do to them.

Peter paused, looking at her with an expression of surprise. "Envy demon. Right. Shit."

Cullen grumbled. "Do you know of any Templar officers that might've resisted the effects of the Red Lyrium?"

Peter considered a moment. "None in the courtyard. I've been hiding out and observing for some time." He pointed toward the far end of the yard. "That doorway leads up to the battlements. Many officers have lodgings off the walks. It's worth a look if you need them for what I'm assuming."

"The more Templars we have who know what they're doing, then less likely the demon will get an opportunity to kill us," Cullen replied, already heading off in that direction. Cassandra and Evelyn followed while Peter opted to remain in the courtyard to look around. Perhaps there was information on where the Lord Seeker- or the demon inhabiting his body- had found this Lyrium and what his ultimate plans might be. It always paid to have more information than one might need. Beyond that, he also needed time to think on Evelyn's role in all of this. What in the Blighted Void was she doing running around with the Inquisition? Not only that, but with the ex Knight Commander of Kirkwall and the Right Hand of the Divine as well?

* * *

><p>"Your brother is a Seeker?" Cullen began, unsure exactly how he felt about that. While it only solidified his view of Evelyn as an innocent regarding the Conclave, it also bothered him how much he <em>didn't <em>know about the mage.

"Yes. He's been one for about fifteen years now. He joined shortly after I passed my Harrowing," she offered, at the very least not being secretive about her past.

For this alone Cullen was inclined to relax a bit in her presence. That, and she'd saved his neck earlier. It appeared that while they would occasionally see themselves at odds, they worked well together. She still had quite a ways to go, however, if he was going to start allowing her into a fight. Now was an extenuating circumstance, later he would attempt to at least teach her how to be careful. Easier said than done from what he'd seen.

Sounds of a fight drifted down to them from the top of the stair, and Cullen was obliged to take them two at a time before he reached the exit. The trio happened upon a pair of Templars attempting to fight off a group of infected and immediately set to action.

The men looked exhausted, and so it was with a quick reach into the Fade that Evelyn bubbled a barrier around them. When she did so, however, two pairs of eyes snapped in her direction, but for the moment they did not appear hostile.

Returning to help Cullen and Cassandra the four felled the creatures easily much to the delight of the Knight Captain (as designated by his armor). Being alive apparently didn't hold much weight when he was faced with an apostate, however, which was a shame. As the happiness of being alive and in working order faded, the Captain turned his attention to her with a sneer.

"A mage! You're at the bottom of this!"

He started toward her. Evelyn immediately retracted the barrier she'd placed around the men, beginning to back away with her hands held palms up. It was a small gesture of supplication. She was no harm to him, she wanted to say, but felt words would mean little to this man.

She'd begun to get worried at his continued advance when Cullen stepped in front of her, his body completely blocking her view of the scene before her.

"The mage is with me."

There was a snort. "You hold her leash, then?"

Hesitation stilled the air atop the battlements, but it was with some effort Cullen replied in the affirmative. Evelyn took no offence. Better he assume the role of her "keeper" than to kill a man just for being prejudiced when they needed his help.

A third voice joined in. "Teague, if Commander Cullen says he has it under control then he his speaking the truth."

Evelyn felt only she could hear the quiet growl that resonated from the Commander's chest. "Samson." He didn't appear happy to see someone he knew.

"It has been a long time, _my friend_."

Seeming to shrug off the negativity of the encounter, Cullen quickly explained their situation. Both Templars agreed to offer their assistance and it was with haste that they returned to the main hall with Peter in tow.

Evelyn didn't miss the murderous little looks Teague shot at her when he though she wasn't looking.

Barris had returned with a few more officers, all eager to see Envy done away with and the Order restored. Peter had misgivings on that account, confiding in Evelyn and Cassandra that he just assumed the Order nullified. Clearly the majority could not be trusted left to their own devices, as they now stood among a distinct minority.

Cassandra seemed on the fence over nullifying the Order, but she was aware that changes needed to be implemented and swiftly. The only person who might have a great deal to say about the matter was Cullen, and thankfully he had been distracted attempting to delegate duties and formulate a plan.

Envy, as was its nature when threatened, had hidden just beyond the hall in what Peter had described as an overlook. Unfortunately it had also managed to erect a magical barrier which was taking the Templars some time to dispel.

"I see what you meant about having people who know what they're doing," Peter remarked to Cullen after several minutes of failed smites. Evelyn stood on the far end of the room with Cassandra.

"This is an embarrassment," the Commander groused, considering having a go of it himself. Perhaps if he was still taking Lyrium he might have been able to, but his abilities seemed farther away now as they had ever been.

A few more minutes of failure and Peter sighed heavily. "Tell them to stop. I have an idea."

Cullen watched as the dark-haired man - someone who looked nothing like Evelyn but for his eyes - retrieved his sister and walked toward the barrier.

"Tell me you know how to get rid of this," he pleaded. He had better things to do than while around here and wait for the demon to get bored enough to try and kill them.

Reckless, their mother would say, charging off into danger without the smallest thought for self preservation. Her nagging voice echoed around in his head long enough to give him the beginnings of a headache.

Cullen had come with them to the fore where Evelyn stood and studied the magical wall with a frown. He watched her with some interest, able to feel the Veil stirring around her as she reached into the Fade.

The others must have felt it at the same moment, for there was a collective stirring among the ranks. Expressions ranged from impassive attention, wariness and finally abject disapproval. Curious that only one Templar wore that particular expression.

The Templar Samson identified as Teague prowled around them like a caged animal, his eyes pinned on Evelyn in a way that troubled the Commander greatly. Those were the eyes of obsession and unhealthy acrimony. He'd seen it often enough in Kirkwall where some Knights felt themselves justified in the abuse of innocent mages.

"It is clear she is stalling because she is in league with the demon!" Teague finally broke down, unable to hold his poison tongue.

Peter's eyes were immediately trained on the man from where he stood beside his sister. "Pardon?"

"The witch would doom us all with her magic. When that barrier comes down the demon will attack! That was their plan all along." The self satisfaction in the Templar's voice set Peter's teeth on edge.

It was with an air of almost predatory grace that the Seeker removed himself from his sister's side, approaching the disruptive man with a smile Cullen would have described as threatening at the very least.

"You seem like a reasonable man, Knight Captain." Peter spoke softly, placing himself between Teague and Evelyn.

"Aye. Good for nothing mages deserve to be put to the sword. Every last one."

Something dark moved beneath the surface of Peter's gaze. A sudden shift of a foot and flick of a wrist allowed the Seeker to shove the Captain up against the old stone wall, a wicked looking knife pressed to the delicate skin of Teague's throat.

A very thin line of blood began to run down the knife's edge.

"Then I will endeavor to put this plainly, as I'm sure someone of your rank would surely appreciate." He made that easily sound like an insult. "Hurl one more insult or back-handed remark at my sister and I will begin to remove your fingers. One for each syllable that leaves your putrid mouth. When you run out of fingers I will move to your toes. If you can still find enough spite within you keep going I will then begin to remove your teeth. When you run out of teeth, I'll cut out your tongue, and while you are laying on the floor choking to death on your own blood I will gladly pluck your eyes right out of your head." Peter smiled, but the gesture was frightening. "So, if I were you, I would think very, very hard about what comes out of my mouth from now on. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Teague, to his credit, appeared unshaken as he nodded his assent, but Cullen could see the fear in his eyes. Any such emotion the Commander feared would be short-lived, however. Men like Teague did not give up their rancor easily.

The mild assault of magic on his senses pulled his attention back to Evelyn who had managed to bring down the barrier, missing the entire exchange.

"Got it!"

And like flipping a switch, Peter's emotions leveled and he returned to her with all of the gentle assurances expected of an older brother. Cullen found he was beginning to like the man.

* * *

><p>"Bring it down, Boss!" Bull called across the field to Evelyn, who was beginning to seriously consider asking the Qunari just how he managed to remain on this side of the Veil with all of his reckless, over-indulgent behavior.<p>

Focusing on the small barrier Envy had erected, she easily overpowered the weak magic. The demon was either tiring or had little experience with defensive magic.

"Mage!" it screeched in its grating voice. One lanky arm shot out and swept Cassandra entirely off of her feet, giving Envy an out through Bull and Blackwall which it readily exploited.

One moment it was slithering its spindly, lumpy body between the warriors and the next it was directly in front of Evelyn, bawling her over with its proximity.

"I have you! I have you!" it squealed in delight, bringing up one impossibly strong arm down for what she assumed would be a debilitating blow. She couldn't help the gut reaction of closing her eyes as certain as she was that this would be the end , but a resounding _thunk_ and a familiar grunt had them flying open to see the back end of a Templar shield.

Another screech from the demon and an arm had wrapped around her torso, pulling her off the ground and to the Commander's side. "Are you okay?" He asked, voice tight.

She nodded, flinching when he swung his blade up and away to turn another blow by the creature. He didn't use his shield, and from what she knew of Templars it was an integral part of their fighting style.

Curiosity had her examining his posture while Bull was busy harrying the demon, distracting it from both her and Cullen. His shield arm hung limp at his side, his shield gripped very loosely in his hand. Each time he tried to move the arm he winced and suppressed a growl of pain. Evelyn had a sneaking suspicion that he'd broken it in her defense. The angle he'd held the shield over her did not afford him the luxury of absorbing the impact of the blow with his body. Instead, his forearm took in the hit, and there was nothing behind it to save the bone from shattering.

Speculation on her part, but she'd seen enough broken bones to know the signs of a shattered limb.

She made a split-second decision. If he couldn't use his shield, she would attempt to use her own barrier in his defense. It was the least she could do for saving her life.

Cullen glanced one more time at her before rejoining the others who now had Envy on the defensive. His balance was a bit off from the cumbersome weight of his shield in his useless hand, but he was both surprised and pleased to see Evelyn had taken it upon herself to block incoming blows with her magic on his behalf. It was strange at first to have someone besides himself controlling his defense, but the pair soon settled into a rhythm of attack and defense that not only won the battle against the Envy Demon but began to build a foundation of trust between them.

He would pester her later over her apparent in-depth knowledge of Templar move sets.

The finishing blow was given to Bull. The demon's pleas for mercy went completely unheard as he was silenced so abruptly Evelyn nearly jumped. She recovered quickly, however, and hurried over to the group to check them over for any pressing injuries.

Cullen made no complaints while she assessed the others, but when she turned to him she saw he'd taxed his body just about as far as it could go. His skin was pale, broken arm shaking with the effort to hold his shield, and a cold sweat had broken out over his brow. He might've wanted to act like it wasn't bothering him, but he was going to pass out sooner rather than later if she didn't do something.

Evelyn ordered the Commander to sit as she approached, and he just barely sank down to one of the steps along the edge of the overlook before swiftly turning to empty his stomach. Now that the adrenaline of the battle was wearing off, the pain would surely double in severity.

Quietly she knelt beside him, nimble fingers swiftly divesting the Commander of his gauntlet which earned her a small hiss of discomfort. Her blue eyes looked up at his amber ones as she asked permission.

"This is going to hurt, but I need to check and see where it is broken."

He simply inclined his head, not trusting himself to speak. He could hear the creaking of his teeth his jaw was clenched so tight.

While she tried her hardest to be gentle, she could not prevent her searching fingers from discovering the location of the break. To his credit, the Commander only let out a thin snarl in response.

She apologized, looking up again from his forearm. "If I don't use magic now this will not heal properly. You may not regain use of this arm."

"Just do it," he ground out.

Nodding, Evelyn laced her fingers through his, ensuring his fingers were splayed appropriately before she began to mend the abused bone.

Shortly after he felt the stirring of the Veil, Cullen's relief came almost immediately. His once heated, aching arm submitted to the cool touch of her fingers as she focused. He was not prepared for the insufferable itch near half-way through. It felt like a thousand ants were scurrying around inside of his arm, and part of him wished for a moment the pain would return.

Just when he thought he might try to break it again, the itching stopped and Evelyn looked up at him with a tentative smile.

"It should be fine now. Try it out."

Cullen glanced down at their entwined fingers dispassionately before Evelyn noticed and snatched her hand back. "Sorry."

"No worries." He lifted his arm, testing the grip of his hand and rotation of his wrist. It was as before. There was no pain, no itching, it was as if his arm had never taken the hit. Cullen looked down to where Evelyn knelt beside him and offered a small smile. "Thank you."

That smile probably should not have caused her stomach to explode with a profusion of butterflies, Evelyn thought absently.

* * *

><p>Peter had met them shortly after the Commander had returned to his feet, a giant slobbering beast close on his heels.<p>

"I've found something that might interest the Inquisition," He spoke quickly, appearing to Evelyn as somewhat distressed.

He handed a small bit of folded parchment to Cassandra to examine before moving to check Over Evelyn who was, thanks to Cullen, completely unharmed. The Mabari beside him also bounded over to her, nearly knocking her over as he placed his forepaws on her shoulders. Evie returned the hug by throwing her arms around the beast's middle, laughing at the firm lick applied to the entire side of her head.

"Maker!" Cassandra breathed, thrusting the parchment into Cullen's hands where he also looked momentarily stunned.

Questioningly, Evelyn looked to Peter, who offered nothing by way of explanation but his unusually silent mien.

"A plot to kill Empress Celene hidden away in Therinfal Redoubt: temporary home of the Templar Order." Cullen sighed, feeling as if the weight of Thedas had come crashing down on their shoulders. "I was hoping this couldn't get any worse."

"It has, and I've found no other explanation for that plot other than to cause disorder in Orlais, which would then open the empire to the political machinations of several jilted nobles."

Cassandra frowned. "Do you think this plot has something to do with the Conclave?"

Peter nodded once, looking grim. "I believe we are looking for someone who is attempting to make a rather desperate grab for power. First getting rid of the Divine and now setting their sights on the Empress. Think about it. Taking down the Chantry - the single overreaching political entity in all of Thedas - plunged the military might of the Templars into chaos and freed the mages from their Circles. The one person trying to bring everyone back under control, The Divine, dies in a mysterious explosion along with countless other Chantry officials, Templars, and Mages seeking peace and compromise. Martial law was then impossible. Now whoever is masterminding this plot wants to remove Orlais-"

"The most powerful government in Thedas." Cullen finished. Pieces were beginning to fall into place.

Cassandra tried to make sense of it. "To what end? Doing all of this to simply sow discord seems-"

"Crazy? Mad? Yes. I think we are dealing with someone who has flown over the cuckoo's nest, so to speak." Peter replied.

"Meaning that aside from this move against the Orlesian court, we know nothing of their goals. Comforting," Cullen grumbled.

"Then it seems we send correspondence to Celene and warn her of our suspicions." Evelyn finally spoke, hand scratching the dog behind the ears, much to the beast's delight.

"That might be easier said than done," Cullen drawled carefully.

"Allow us to help." The group turned toward a gathering of Templars headed by Ian and Barris who next spoke.

"We know that the Order has done...shameful things, but if we can somehow make up for it - if we can stop the bid for Celene's head, then maybe the Maker will forgive us for our inaction."

Cullen narrowed his eyes at the lot. How dare they? None sought to investigate the extraordinary actions of their superiors before. Why on Thedas would the Inquisition trust them to do the right thing now?

"What is your plan, Barris?" Evelyn asked curiously. Much to Cullen's chagrin, she was entertaining their suggestion.

"It is obvious not many of us remain, but we are still Templars and we can still fight. If you fear a plot against the Chantry and Orlais then send us to Val Royeaux. There we can keep an eye on the remaining Chantry officials in the event the culprit is one of them."

Evelyn considered this a moment before nodding. Cullen was about to heatedly debate that decision, but she spoke before he could gather his argument.

"That's commendable, but I need the Templars to assist with the Breach." She held up a silencing finger when Ian began to protest. "We can make a compromise. The Order no longer has the hierarchy in place to be formally recognized and is therefore disbanded. However," she glanced quickly over to Cullen who was watching her with an unnervingly unreadable expression, " the Inquisition will offer those of you remaining a chance to atone for your mistakes by being absorbed into our ranks. As you know, our military adviser is a former Knight Commander. If he finds you able and willing to follow the Order's dictates, we will at that time have another discussion about reinstating the Order as it once was through promotion." Evelyn tread on dangerous ground with this, given her status as a mage. It seemed for the most part that many of the younger Templars were indeed listening to her. It was a start. "Only those we trust will be sent to Val Royeaux as Ser Barris suggested. Does this sound fair?"

Peter snorted. "Much more of a deal than I would have offered, sister."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone! Welcome to another installment of Enduring Knight! This one is another biggy, and we finally begin to see a positive rapport building between Cullen and Evelyn. **

**I wanted to again thank everyone who took the time to review/follow/fav. It really means a lot to me that you like reading this as much as I love writing it.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>A misting of rain preceded the fog bank that began to overtake them as they left Therinfal. Despite the poor weather Evelyn's spirits were high. Her offer had won over the majority of the Templars remaining loyal to the Order, much to her surprise. It had also come sealed with Cullen and Cassandra's approval. The pair were all too eager to take what military talent they could find, though Cullen was reserved about their potential within the Inquisition. It had still buoyed her spirits to know she had successfully mediated a rather tense situation.<p>

Looking over her shoulder as she urged her horse onto the road, she again found herself wondering how the Order had fallen so far. The Templars that followed them were great in number, but she recalled gatherings from when she was just a girl at the Ostwick Circle where their numbers would obscure the surrounding countryside. She also recalled a time when Templars stood for justice, security and a nobility of spirit that drew their souls closer to the Maker. She sorely missed her romantic notions of the Order.

Perhaps their dwindling enrollment had something to do with the risk involved, or possibly the emotional trauma that came with such a relentless, thankless job. Whatever the reason, she was glad the Inquisition could offer these seemingly lost men and women refuge and a chance to atone for their mistakes. Well, she was glad _she_ could offer it to them. Whether Leliana or Josephine would be as pleased as she remained to be seen.

Speaking of advisers her eyes drifted ahead of her to Cullen, who would surely rust inside of his armor in this rain if he did not put on a Blighted jacket.

The Commander had been surprisingly supportive of her goodwill toward his former brothers and sisters, though she suspected all of his griping was a front - a way to cope with his past in the Order. She did not know the whole of it, but from the way he chose to speak rarely of himself and his past suggested to her that his story was not a pleasant one.

"I think I will write to mother about all of this. I'm almost positive she would faint dead away at the notion of her little Evelyn serving as an ambassador of the Inquisition. You know how she is." Peter spoke, prodding her dignity from over five feet away with nothing but the sound of his voice.

"Josephine is the Inquisition's ambassador, brother. I am...the person who closes the Fade rifts."

Cullen's ears perked up at the dejected tone of her voice.

"That's right. I almost forgot. I've heard the stories. So, how do you do it? Is it a magic thing?"

Evelyn held up her scarred hand and held it out to Peter who brought his horse up beside hers to examine the appendage and the strange magic that lay upon it. The fine mist dusted her fair skin, just beginning to tan from exposure to sunlight.

"I can feel and see it affecting the Fade. It is magic, but it is not my magic." Biting her lip, she tried to find an adequate explanation. "I believe Aaron would describe it as using another soldier's sword instead of your own."

"So...alien?"

"Yes," she inclined her head to him, pleased that he understood, if only a little. "I am still trying to make sense of it."

"It has the ability to affect the Fade and close the rifts. What about the Breach?"

"That is why we are here." She glanced behind them to the legion of Templars following. "I need people skilled in the art of suppressing magic. The hope is to weaken the Breach while I step in with the mark to pull it closed."

"This is all speculation?"

She let out a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately yes. It has sealed every rift I've come into contact with this far. I don't have a reason to believe it will behave differently with the Breach since it is but a larger rift. Then again, I could be wrong and this could all be for nothing."

Evelyn betrayed herself then. She betrayed the insecurity she felt welling up to choke her at night. She allowed Peter to see her fear, sorrow, and apprehension regarding the entire matter of the Breach and the Inquisition. "I'm scared, brother. Everyone knows what they are doing. Everyone is sure of the course of action they must take, but I do not have that luxury. I barely survived the Conclave and was thrust into this role of "useful tool" under threats of imprisonment and death. Do you know the Chantry in Orlais wants me hanged simply because I am the lone survivor of the Conclave - because I am convenient?"

"I would never allow it. Neither would father. You know that." Peter replied with a conviction that gave her hope.

"Is it really that simple? Peter, if I do not find a way to close the Breach and fix this I will be just another problematic mage the Chantry officials will use as a scapegoat. After all, what is one spirit healer in the face of an entire empire calling for retribution?"

"Then you must close the Breach at any cost. To the Void with what's left of the Chantry."

That remark earned him a sharp glare from Cassandra. He bestowed upon her an apologetic smile before turning back to Evelyn.

"Sister, if anyone is intelligent enough to find a way to fix this, it is you. Are you not the woman known across the Free Marches as _The Foremost Authority on the Fade_?"

"I know nothing of the Breach. I haven't had any time to study it. I am not even certain of its origin."

"Yet you are here with a legion of Templars at your back and some idea of how to proceed." He paused a beat. "Have you spoken to them?"

"Of course I have. It's the only reason I'm confident enough in the Templars' abilities to even try this."

"Then have some faith. Spirits are, after all, residents of the Fade. It stands to reason they would know how to better manipulate it than you or I."

Evelyn let out a tired sigh. "At this point all I can do is pray I am not wrong."

* * *

><p>The heavy mist had finally given way to rain that soaked through their cloaks and armor. Standing water that had accumulated on their current path made travel dangerous. Blackwall's mount had already slipped in the mud, and so it was after that incident that Cullen gave the order to make camp.<p>

Evelyn was thankful for the respite from the rain as she made a dash for the cover of the thick pine trees just off the road. Her cloak was threadbare and barely kept her from shivering. When they returned to Haven she would ask Josephine if it was possible to finance some new clothing. The thought turned her eye to her robes which were in a completely unpresentable state soaked with blood, burned, torn, and flecked with other unidentifiable substances she would rather not think about.

She jumped when a weighty mass of fur and wool fell over her eyes. Shoving the fabric back over her head, she looked up to find Cullen standing beside her.

"You'll catch your death in that ratty cloak." He sighed, as if it were a great burden to point the obvious out to her. "You'll use mine instead."

She didn't quite know how to respond to that, so she opted for diplomacy. "Uh, thank you." Her fingers picked at the hem of her own woolen cloak. "I didn't have one of my own. One of the servants allowed me to borrow this one for the trip."

He frowned. "You didn't have any proper clothing from your initial journey to the Conclave?"

Evelyn shook her head and pulled the dark, thick cloak more tightly around her, burying the cold tip of her nose within the fur-lined collar. It smelled like something she'd eaten before as a child - a rarity in the Free Marches as it was grown predominantly in Orlais.

"Oranges."

"What?"

Her cheeks colored, but she recovered her composure quickly. Maker, she hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud. She was so used to talking to herself.

"Your cloak. It smells like oranges."

He shifted on his feet and brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. She was surprised at the nervous gesture, brief as it was.

"It's an oil. It was a gift I received from a friend years ago. I found I actually liked it."

She nodded, taking another breath. If it wasn't bad enough that he was so easy on the eyes, it was even worse that he smelled so good. Between the faint scent of orange, leather, horse, and man, she was fairly certain there could be nothing that smelled so...so _tempting_.

"I have heard that it helps with attention and vigilance," she replied, thinking that was quite appropriate for a Templar. Whoever had made that purchase must of known him quite well.

He said nothing, but remained standing beside her as they looked down over the bustling campsite from her spot beneath the massive pine.

The silence stretched on, and she found herself wanting to fill the void. "You know this is only the sixth time in my life that I've felt rain on my skin?" That definitely sounded more depressing than she'd intended.

Cullen regarded her for a moment, eyes unreadable. "Only the sixth?" He said finally, earning a snort of laughter from Evelyn.

"Yes. I'm certain. I have been keeping track. Strange how all the times before seemed much more pleasant than this." She gestured upward to the fat drops of moisture falling from the water-logged vegetation.

"How are you adjusting to life outside the Circle?"

She blinked at him, mind going blank a moment. His interest was unexpected.

"It's different. Completely different." She took another breath, closing her eyes. "I miss the Circle. After all, it was my home for nineteen years and I never had a problem with the Templars or the fact that I was forced to remain. I spent the time studying and honing my skills."

"What skills do you possess? I confess I've only witnessed your barrier spell and your healing abilities." He made himself comfortable by leaning back against the trunk of the tree.

Her blue eyes opened to fix him with a small smile. "Strange. I do not recall a Templar ever having asked me that. They normally don't care so long as I don't suddenly sprout horns and a tail."

Cullen rolled his shoulder in a shrug. "I am not a Templar. Not anymore, anyway."

On the contrary, she thought as she observed him subtly over the ruff of his own cloak, he was definitely the kind of man she would fix as a Templar. He was gruff, uncaring of the trappings of polite society, skilled, and gentle - though he was wont to show such sentiment. Those were qualities she'd read about in many a legend about the Order. Valiant Knights would right wrongs, rescue damsels, and protect those in need. Despite her initial dislike of him, on this journey she'd come to understand his nature enough to put that behind her.

"You are a Knight, regardless." Evelyn pressed, not missing the slight downturn at the corners of his mouth. She moved on. "I have a few talents. Are you familiar with Spirit Healers?"

"One, and he was a cleverly disguised abomination, blew up a Chantry, and incited a war."

Anders, she thought. She'd heard the stories from Kirkwall, though precious few spoke of the man standing beside her.

"Anyway, my study in that area has allowed me to become a master of the healing arts. I can dispel curses, tend wounds, and occasionally bring someone back from the brink of death." She paused a beat, feeling suddenly honest with him. "It was my father who taught me how to use my barrier as I do."

"He is a mage?"

Evelyn chuckled, blue eyes dancing with mirth. "No, no. He's just a man who is good with a sword and shield. Doesn't matter what it's made of - energy or steel - he can use it."

"What about your brothers?"

Her smile grew fond at the memory of them, and at the fact that the Commander had been paying enough attention to remember she had more than one sibling. Though she doubted much escaped his notice. "Aaron is a gentle soul, but has a hot temper like Father when something gets under his skin. Edward is kind, mild-mannered, and probably the most political of us all. You know Peter. He's annoying, roguish, sarcastic, practical, and has always been my biggest supporter."

"A fair assessment," Cullen offered, rewarding him with another one of her laughs.

"And then there is Michael. He's a sweet boy, but easily influenced. When he was younger he fell into the wrong crowd and was expelled from his apprenticeship. I've written him, but I worry he will end up like Evan."

"Who is Evan?"

"My twin. He didn't pass his Harrowing." She closed her eyes again in an effort to stay the tears. There was not a day that went by where she did not think of him. They were as close as any two people could be. There was a time where they could even finish one-another's sentences. His death had left a hole in her being that nothing could fill, even years of rigorous study.

"I see. For what it's worth, I am sorry. Do you still see him?" Cullen knew full well that a Tranquil was not the person who had once inhabited that body, but some attempted to find comfort that their friend or family member was still alive. Technically.

"The Templars could not complete the Rite quickly enough."

He was killed, she wouldn't say, but Cullen filled in the blanks. He didn't have a twin, but if any of his siblings had been in her brother's position, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. The Order had plans in place for such events to protect everyone including the mages in their care, but reasoning it out did not cover up the fact that death was a painful affair for those left behind.

Silence yawned between them again, but it was companionable. The sound of rain, the rustle of the pine boughs in the wind, and the scent of oranges were all that surrounded them at that moment.

* * *

><p>The weather became colder as their party finally began traversing the well-trod road into the Frostbacks. Rain turned into freezing rain which turned into snow, and Cullen was happy that he'd more or less forced Evelyn to continue wearing his cloak. He could handle the chill, especially with the fever he was fighting, but she would surely freeze.<p>

The sound of trotting hooves pulled him out of his musings. He sucked in a lungfull of cold air, relying on the biting pain to liven him up before turning to see Peter approaching him.

"Commander, I'm afraid I must leave your company before you head onto the North road. I have pressing business in the Approach."

"All the way on the other side of Orlais? Why so far?" Cullen wondered at what a Seeker could possibly be doing out on the absolute fringes of civilization. There was nothing but sand and Darkspawn in the Western Approach. Beyond that waste there was only the Blight tainted sulfur lakes and the Sea of Ash. Nothing alive ventured that far, not even the sturdy beasts that called the desert home.

Peter inclined his head. "I have reason to believe that several groups of mages have fled into the desert to escape pursuing Templars. I plan to go and see what I can do to sway the mages back into security. Not a Circle, but my family has made it clear their home is open to any mage seeking refuge."

"Refuge from Templars." He stated flatly. "That is generous of them, but risky."

The Seeker grinned. "Risky for the Templars who think they can try and stop them."

"The more I learn about the Trevelyans, the more I'm convinced that the lot of you should receive an offer of alliance from the Inquisition." Truthfully, from how the siblings had spoken of their family these past few weeks of travel, he could say he was intrigued by them. Apparently the Trevelyan family was full of Chantry supporters, though their opinions seemed unorthodox to him. He could not deny that he agreed with some of their sentiments - especially those about the roles Templars should play within the Circle.

Peter nodded toward his sister who rode just ahead of them with Cassandra. "Consider that a tentative agreement between us. You protect my sister, and I'll offer any support I can lend you with the Breach. If you succeed in destroying it, the offer will still stand."

Cullen agreed without hesitation. He would marvel at that easy acceptance later. "I will keep her safe. You have my word."

Peter's shoulders relaxed with his relief. He was clearly worried about his sister's well-being. He couldn't blame him. Family, he recalled with a bit of sadness, was important.

"Excellent. I'll stop by Haven on my return trip and write my family. Despite your ambassador's best efforts, my father will treat any correspondence from the Inquisition with suspicion until I can verify you aren't a bunch of zealots."

Cullen rolled his eyes to himself. He didn't think anyone had ever called him a zealot before. Oh, how the times changed. "Maker light your path," he spoke in farewell and watched as brother and sister embraced before Peter took his leave via the Westward path.

They turned North, a few miles closer to Haven.

* * *

><p>The dog wouldn't leave him alone.<p>

It bounded to and fro between the smithy and the training yard yapping excitedly to anyone who could listen. Then it would return to circle him before he was obliged to pat its head, after which it would shoot off and repeat the process with a seemingly endless supply of energy.

Currently the beast was enjoying burying the entirety of its body in the snowbank before popping out like an assassin to snap its teeth at some phantom menace.

The thing was touched in the head.

Even Cassandra agreed that the fearsome-looking war dog acted nothing like any Mabari she'd seen.

The only people who didn't seem to mind the obnoxious animal were Bull and Evelyn. The former seemed to have a good rapport with the Mabari, speaking to it like a person. The later cherished all manner of creatures, especially the dog entrusted to her by her brother. He would have to ask Peter just how he'd come into possession of the thing upon his return.

"Have you placed the order yet?" Cassandra asked, walking toward him just as the offensive beastie drove between them like a streak of lightning. He skid to a halt at the foot of one of the Templar recruits just long enough to get a scratch before running off again.

Trying to ignore the Mabari's antics, Cullen cleared his throat as his eyes met Cassandra's. "I did the moment we returned. I cannot believe she didn't mention it to us sooner."

"She is not demanding in the least. It does not surprise me that she would be hesitant to confide in us after how she was initially treated." She grimaced. "That is partially my own fault, I am sure. I was not gentle."

"We couldn't afford to be, but that aside, at least we know she won't risk losing fingers or toes anymore."

Again, the beast ricocheted between them, ran circles around them, and sprang back to the stables. The two warriors heaved a sigh.

* * *

><p>Evelyn let out a pleasant groan as she sank further into the free-standing tub of scalding water. The coals were hot when she'd arrived, but she'd stoked them a bit more to achieve the wondrous heat that was now spearing into her flesh and warming her to her bones.<p>

Weeks of grimy travel washed away from her, and she was eager to be rid of _that smell_ which had accompanied her for the last few days. Scouring blood from beneath one of her fingernails, she shuddered to think of how she was going to go about scrubbing her robe. Perhaps she would ask Josephine about getting some scented oil as well. It would be a mercy.

That thought caused her eyes to drift toward the straight-backed chair on which Cullen's cloak lay. He'd gone days and many miles without a warm barrier from the elements all for her sake, and she felt decidedly guilty. She had watched him carefully once the weather had worsened, and she worried that his flushed complexion and tired bering spoke of an impending illness.

Still, he made no complaint, even asking after her own well being regularly.

That only served to deepen her sense of guilt.

With a sigh she poked her legs out of the water, hanging them over the side of the tub. She noted the color was coming back to her flesh, though the tips of her toes remained white as the snow that'd caused their condition.

Evelyn sunk further into the hot bath, closing her eyes in an effort to relax the ever present tension in her shoulders.

What felt like only moments passed before the atmosphere in the room changed. Feeling uneasy, she opened her eyes and looked around. Attempting to discern where spirits were in the physical world was fairly simple for her. With her strong connection to the Fade, she could see most as readily as she could see anything else. It was very rare to find one, however. Usually when she was running with her senses wide open Evelyn could see shadows of creatures that had passed on. People held the most residual energy after they'd died, and so she spotted them much more often. These shades had not yet found their way through the Veil, and so they lingered. Some had remained for Ages, still seeking to fulfill themselves in some way.

But this energy raised the hair on the nape of her neck, and it felt like neither spirit nor shade.

Examining this development with a frown, she was wholly unprepared for the whisper of a breeze against the shell of her ear.

_Let me in._

Evelyn's entire body froze. What on Thedas was that?

Hearing nothing more for the moment, but thoroughly disinterested in her bath, she stood and dried herself. Normally she was wont to neglect a conversation with a non-physical entity, but this was something she had never encountered before. It was better to be safe and remove herself than sorry.

Uncaring for the state of her filthy robe, she began to dress. It was half-way over her mass of wet hair before there was a knock at the door. Dancing a bit frantically, she managed to pull the garment down enough to make herself decent before an elf entered the room.

"Sorry to interrupt, mistress, but I was instructed to bring you these."

She could not see the servant's face it was so obscured by the mass of cloth she held, so Evelyn moved forward to divest the poor girl of half of her burden. She wasn't paying much attention to what she held, surprised when the elf made a pointed look to her arms and regarded her with a smile.

"You're to put those on, mistress."

Evelyn frowned, holding up one of the garments. It was a black fabric of heavy, durable weave and in a shape she had not seen before. The girl must have see the Herald's confusion, for she began to offer an explanation.

"Seeker Cassandra and the Commander noticed you did not have protective attire for traveling, so they commissioned me to find you something that would suit you." The elf made a show of scrutinizing the state of the robe she now wore, dismissing it with a flick of her fingers as she lay the rest of her pile on the chair with Cullen's cloak. "What you're holding there are the underclothes."

Evelyn blinked once at the girl and again at the dark cloth in her hand, a steady blush beginning to creep up her neck. "What?"

"Here, I'll show you how it goes."

The lesson was informative. Near half an hour later Evelyn stood in front of the looking glass in probably the warmest clothing she'd ever owned. The black attire, as it happened, were not small-clothes, but intended to protect her skin from the chaff of the armor. The armor itself was very light, but was much more practical than her robes as the doe skin leggings afforded her greater movement. Over her chest a jacket of the same leather rest and was fastened tightly closed beneath a heavy woolen shawl of Inquisition red that bunched up around her neck and tied snugly about her hips. Boots and gloves were also thrust into her hands, and she could hardly contain her smile.

Looking up at the elven girl, Evelyn grinned. "Thank you…"

"Nola," she replied, looking upon Evelyn with a touch of pride. "And I will say that I have good taste. That color makes your eyes look like right sapphires, it does."

"Thank you Nola. You wouldn't happen to know where Cullen and Cassandra are, would you? I desperately need to thank them."

"Usual spots, I wager. That pair are more predictable than harvest time."

She bid farewell to Nola, snatching the cloak off the back of the chair and rushing out of the room. Minutes later she was passing through the gates of Haven at a dead run.

Casandra was just turning from a conversation with the new Templar recruits when a blur passed Cullen and careened into the Seeker nearly knocking her over.

"Cassandra! Thank you so much! I've never worn anything so fine in my _whole life_! It's wonderful! You're wonderful! I will never be able to repay your kindness."

The Commander stifled a laugh at the shocked expression on the Seeker's face as she caught Evelyn against her to keep her from falling to the ground. "Maker, calm down!" The woman tried to suppress the obvious joy she had herself over the well-received gifts, but failed as she treated Evelyn with a smile. "I'm glad you like them, but next time at least warn me before jumping into my arms."

Evelyn's grin was infectious as it grew wider, spreading to a couple of the surrounding Templars. "I'm sorry, I'm just _so excited!_"

The pair exchanged a few more words, quieter now. Cullen had just returned to observing a sparring match between two very green recruits when Evelyn was suddenly standing before him, smile still plain on her face.

"I should thank you as well." She held up the cloak he had loaned her. "For everything."

Saying no more, and expecting no response, she hurried off to show Krem her new armor.

* * *

><p>The argument in the war room was short lived for once, thank the Maker. Cullen had firmly rejected wasting more time pursuing the mage's support for help with the Breach. They would try with the Templars first. If they failed then at that time they would seek out a magical solution. Josephine and Leliana only had minor qualms with the rush, but they agreed as did Evelyn at the need for efficiency.<p>

After all, none of them knew exactly how long the Breach would remain stable.

Whatever they expected, it was not the effortless success they met when they finally reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes. While the use of her mark physically and spiritually drained Evelyn, she did not falter, and within minutes the Breach had been closed. Its eerie green light faded from the sky amid cheers from Templars and grateful villagers alike.

It seemed as if the Commander's prayers for an easy victory were heard, and for that he was thankful. Now the Inquisition could focus on closing the remaining Rifts and settling this damn dispute between the mages, Templars, and the Chantry. In a way, that task seemed more daunting than sealing a gateway that would explode with countless numbers of demons at any moment.

This was why he was a soldier and not a diplomat.

Evelyn, it seemed, was much more suited to the task, he mused as he watched her interact with the countless number of people who surrounded her. While he would have become annoyed shortly with their persistent praise and well-wishing, she seemed to take it all in stride. Varric was correct in that she had a gentle soul and a good heart.

The only thing he was not pleased with regarding Lady Trevelyan was the constant hovering of one man. Samson drew near her at every turn. He wished to speak of the Breach, her power, what talents she perfected during her time at the Circle, which Knight Commander she favored and what First Enchanter she was most inspired by. He had not stopped his prattling since they'd set out for Haven from Therinfal, and he was irked to discover that she had not rebuffed his enthusiastic bids for her attention.

It was in this respect that he found her kindness vexing.

So consumed was he with keeping an eye on Samson, he'd not heard Josephine approach him until the woman cleared her throat. Her Antivan accent carried over the mix of Fereldish and Orlesian timbres that surrounded them, pulling his attention away from the shady man.

"I wanted to get your opinion."

He inclined his head toward her, indicating that he was listening before his eyes cast about the crowd once more.

"Lady Trevelyan, as you know, is from a very influential family in the free Marches."

Where was this going, exactly? He didn't deal with political matters. That was _her_ realm of expertise.

"That upbringing is evident in the way she speaks with people. I've read the field reports, Cullen. She is diplomatic, calm, and possesses a social tact that few Orlesian nobles could hope to obtain." She gestured out to where Evelyn stood politely listening to a group of women chirping on about seasonal colors for _ribbons_ of all things. The inanity of the topic did not seem to disturb her smile. "I would have her remain with us - after the rifts are all closed."

His head snapped toward Josephine, a concerned furrow drawing his brows together. "She has no place here."

She gave an exasperated sigh, eyes flinging daggers at him. "You cannot pretend to be ignorant of the fact that she is an incredible asset to our cause. If the Inquisition is to remain and bring change to Thedas then we need all of the skilled agents we can possibly get our hands on."

"She is a mage."

"And? That's even better. She can draw sympathy to her plight, not that she'd need to use such a tactic. She has made every single alliance for the Inquisition since she fell into our laps with little or no risk to us or our values. We _need _her, Commander. _I_ need her."

Cullen grumbled internally to himself, recognizing the advantage, but not wanting Evelyn to remain with them longer than necessary. It was not because he was actually beginning to enjoy her company, but that the longer she stayed the greater the risk posed against her. He did not think Peter would be too pleased about that even if Cullen would be willing to instate himself as her guardian. Then again, his position would not allow him the time to do so. Maker, he needed to stop thinking.

Seeking to take up a stance of neutrality, confused by his own circular logic, he offered Josephine a partial answer. "We will speak to her brother about it when he returns, but don't get your hopes up."

She smiled, but rolled her eyes at him. He was far too grouchy for his own good, she thought as she turned on her heel to head back into the Chantry.

* * *

><p>The stables were on fire.<p>

Sparks wound up into the black void of the night sky as frantic shouts and fearful screams cut through the roaring of the flames. The unknown army that marched steadily and ominously toward them down the mountainside let forth another volley of flaming arrows, spooking the horses Evelyn held in her grip. She spoke encouraging words, sending a pulse of calming energy to the animals to still their balking. Master Dennet hurried up beside her with another group of horses.

"Take them into the town! There's no way we can put this out now!"

She nodded, grimacing as one of the main supports collapsed near the rear of the forge. Hurrying away from the scene, horses trotting beside her, she mounted the steps to pass through the heavy gate.

A hand shot out to relieve her of the black warhorse she lead, pleased to see Cullen was well in the midst of this mess.

"Dennet is coming with the rest we could save," She panted, face smudged with soot.

He nodded sharply. "Get to the Chantry."

She wanted to help, desired to remain should her skills be needed, but the look on his face was ordering her to leave.

Uncertain and worried, her eyes searched his and their gazes held. "Maker watch over you," she spoke quietly before leaving him.

Arriving at the Chantry doors she met up with Varric, Bull, and their newest addition Dorian. He'd arrived shortly before they'd been beset by the enemy, and seemed to know a great deal about who exactly was behind it - at least in comparison to the Inquisition's knowledge.

The ground shook as a pair of projectiles slammed into the town's walls, more arrows following.

"So you're telling me this "Elder One" is attacking us because he wants...what?" Varric ground out as he braced himself against the stone wall.

"I'm not entirely sure of the "why"," the mage spoke confidently despite his lack of knowledge and the chaos around them. "I do know that he's persuaded a vast amount of mages from Redcliffe to join his army. I also know that he has his sights set on the Orlesians after he's finished here. I suspect it's because the Inquisition has been meddling."

"The Templars," Evelyn spoke up, remembering the order Peter had found. Dorian turned toward her with a questioning quirk of his brow. "We found a plan to assassinate Empress Celene at Therinfal-"

She was interrupted at the sound of the forward trebuchets launching and hitting one of the snow covered peaks. The subsequent avalanche _should_ have buried the advancing army. Instead a great shift in the Veil signaled the presence of mages shortly before several barriers were cast. A portion didn't have time to react, but it was the seasoned, prepared individuals that Evelyn was most concerned about.

The small group looked on as villagers ran past them into the Chantry seeking refuge. Samson ran up to them in a panic. "People are trapped, Evelyn! We need to free them before the army reaches us."

"Of course. Take me to them." She agreed with concern, following closely on his heels. Varric attempted to follow, but Evelyn assured him she would not need any help with her abilities. Thinking she was safe with the Templar, he acquiesced.

The dwarf would regret staying behind as the events of that horrific night unfolded.

* * *

><p>Cullen sprinted through the Chantry doors with his remaining men, any stragglers he could find, and several horses.<p>

The roar of the winged beast was muffled as the doors closed behind their party. He couldn't believe his eyes. A Blighted Archdemon? This was far worse than they could have possibly imagined.

"Curly!"

He looked down, spying Varric making his way toward him through the crush of people, animals, and possessions.

"Varric, is everyone here?"

"Everyone we could grab on our way in." He looked around, spying a head of white-blonde hair and sighed in relief. Blondie and the Templar had made it back from their rescue mission just fine.

Cullen nodded, mind flipping quickly through scenarios in his head. There wasn't much to do but sit and wait, though he was certain he would not just go without a fight. A silent death meant one accepted their fate. He would never accept this as his end.

"What's the plan, Curly? We going to sit around and sing campfire songs or go out weapons blazing?"

"There is a way…" a raspy voice sounded nearby, drawing both men's attention.

* * *

><p>While Evelyn and Samson searched the damaged homes for survivors, the duo had managed to free several trapped individuals who hurried toward the safety of the Chantry's walls. The very last building to check had been the pub. Rushing in, Samson close behind her, they found the proprietor immobile laying prone on a pile of rubble. She was pinned, and Evelyn quickly energized the area to gently remove the offending debris. Samson stood nearby, and when she was finished he moved in to lift the woman into his arms.<p>

At that moment one of the precariously situated stones, likely from the outer wall, shifted beneath Samson's weight. The slight movement caused the entire structure to groan shortly before the ceiling collapsed around her.

Even Evelyn was surprised that she had managed to move quickly enough to escape the cave in, not suspecting that Samson's iron-clad boot _might_ have kicked a support while she was concentrating on the woman, or that the shifting stones _might_ have been a result of his intentional desire to collapse the remaining half of the outer wall.

"Samson?" Evelyn called out, coughing on the dust that clouded around her. "Samson, are you okay?"

She shifted away, having landed hard on her backside in her effort to flee. The sudden and enduring pain that shot from her foot to her head told her she'd twisted her ankle, if not broken it, but she had no time and less energy to dedicate to healing herself.

Striding toward her were a group of rebel mages, all wearing the same uniform of black robes with red lining. They looked an imposing bunch, and Evelyn was glad she had readied her barrier spell.

One of the mages cast a spear of ice at her, but she easily blocked it. Another tried to slay her with fire, but did not succeed. Frustrated, the pair began to work in tandem, and it took much of her energy to keep up with their furious spell casting. All she could do was defend herself against the onslaught as others joined in.

Briefly, she considered the folly of only pursuing defensive magic, but then an idea struck her. Reaching deep into her connection to the Fade, Evelyn brought forth a dispel powerful enough to jar the contingent of advancing mages. It gave her enough time to once again energize the rubble of the pub, bringing the debris across the space between them effectively blocking their path.

It would only work a short while, but she could try to get away. She hoped Samson and the woman had made it to safety - prayed that they were alright.

She got to her feet with a small cry of pain. A grimace marred her pretty features as she slowly made her way down the only path available. It was with an empty sort of resignation that she realized this was a dead end.

The space spread out into a circle wide enough to accommodate a single loaded trebuchet, and it was with continuously deteriorating morale that she heard and then saw a great winged beast fly overhead.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "An Archdemon?"

"Found you!"

She whipped her head around to see that the mages had broken through her measly barrier. Apparently they were not as stupid or inept as she had hoped. Darn.

One of the group grinned, raising his staff above his head. "Time to end you, Herald!" He cried, shortly before a ball of fire blew the lot of them backward.

She looked up only to see that one bad thing was only replaced by another as the Archdemon landed in front of where the mages had once stood. It eyed her with intelligence, advancing slowly much like a tomcat might stalk a hapless mouse.

Andraste preserve me, Evelyn prayed silently knowing there was no way out.

She could hear the small gurgle in the back of its throat before it set forth another ball of flame. She was surprised when it blew right past her, but was not pleased when its impact sent her sprawling to the ground.

Not willing to just lie here and let it have her, she rolled to her knees, not trusting her aggravated ankle to support her weight. She looked up to where the Archdemon had stood, finding only flames and a dark specter of a creature making its way forward.

The heat from the fire made her vision blur and shift, but as it came closer she could finally see that it was a Darkspawn.

Had this been a Blight all along? Maker…

"Pretender!" The deep, gravelly voice bellowed, echoing in the small space. One long, bony finger stretched out toward her. "You toy with forces beyond your ken no more!" The snarl in his voice shook the ground, and she could feel the power of it reverberating within her chest.

She knew magic when she felt it, and this magic was ancient, powerful, and frightening.

"You will glorify me, revere, me, and exalt me before your end as penance for what you have stolen!"

_What?_

He held up something in the palm of his hand that glowed with an angry red light not unlike a blood mage's aura. The mere sight sent a shiver running down her spine.

The response of the mark on her palm to the pulse of red light startled her. The Veil drew thin around them. There was a tugging sensation on her hand before she felt like it was suddenly going to be ripped right off of her arm. The energy yanked it toward the red light, pulling her off her knees and causing her to fall again onto her backside.

"Give it to me!" He bellowed, the magic in his words making her heart quiver once more. "You will not undo my work. I am the Elder One. I am Corypheus, and you will submit to my will!"

He strode toward her quickly, lifting her up by her offensive marked hand. With an unimpressed scoff he tossed her effortlessly aside, her back colliding with the corner of the trebuchet.

Black stars danced before her eyes as she struggled to keep herself awake.

"You have spoiled my coming. I would restore order to this Blighted world, but your existence has proven to be a slight I will suffer no more." He crooked a finger, and once again the Archdemon appeared at the periphery of her vision. "Your end will be the catalyst for the coming of a New Age. Be grateful."

The Archdemon lifted its whip-like tail, flicking it once before snapping it in Evelyn's direction.

A blur of brown fur struck her before the demon's blow, sending her tumbling down between the slats of the trebuchet platform and several feet onto a hard, cold stone floor.

Having missed Evelyn entirely, the Archdemon's tail thwacked against the release for the siege weapons' ammunition, and Corypheus watched with indignant fury as his pursuit of this offender was cut short.

Demon and Darkspawn fled before the avalanche could bury them both.

* * *

><p>Evelyn did not know how long she had been out, but the firm wet lick of a rough tongue roused her further from the borderlands of sleep. She wished it hadn't. Hurting in places she wasn't sure had even existed before tonight, she struggled to her shaky feet.<p>

It seemed that while she had been down her ankle had healed somewhat. At least it was not broken as she had originally feared.

Small blessings.

A bark directed her toward her brother's Mabari, who stood expectantly in front of a narrow passage. Seeing no other way out, she followed.

When the pair had finally emerged from the dank tunnel, all they found was a field of snow white and untouched. Evelyn felt a wave of trepidation wash over her.

"Where are we?"

There were no markers to identify their position. All that broke the seemingly never ending white field of snow were the mountains jutting out sharply like black teeth. It occurred to her that she was lost.

Bewildered, she could only think to move forward, the Mabari walking resolutely beside her.

"Thank you," She spoke softly a while later. They had made it to a treeline, though if that was a good or bad thing she had no idea. Path finding was not in her skill set. As if the Chantry would ever deign to teach such a thing to a mage.

The Mabari cocked its ear at her thanks as if it acknowledged the sentiment. She'd heard the dogs were smart, but she had limited experience with them. This one had found her brother one night as he camped, and Peter has decided to let the beast tag along with him on his travels. To her knowledge, he'd never named him.

Well, that wouldn't do.

In an effort to keep her mind off the cold, the people of Haven, and the throbbing pain suffusing throughout her entire body, she ventured to pick an appropriate moniker for the hero that had saved her.

Hours later Evelyn had wrapped her arms around her body as she began to shiver. The scenery was as featureless as it has always been, and she was beginning to think that she would never make it back to Haven.

They were lost. Hopelessly and irrefutably lost.

Her pace slowed with the increasing distance, and eventually her body's poor condition caught up with her as she collapsed into the snow.

* * *

><p>Cullen was visibly shaking with rage.<p>

Just moments ago he had discovered that Samson and Evelyn had left the safety of the Chantry during the attack to search for survivors. Samson had returned. Evelyn had not.

"Where did you last see her?" He grit his teeth as he bit out the question.

"The pub where we saved that woman. The ceiling collapsed and I couldn't get to her," Samson offered honestly, looking as guilty as he should have been.

The Commander shoved aside the dread that had begun to spear its icy fingers into his gut.

"You didn't try to find her? Didn't try to see if she was still alive?"

"I couldn't! there was too much debris, Cullen."

"Coward!" he growled, advancing on the greasy little man when a sharp bark cut through their dialogue.

Both men turned to see the Mabari beside them, confused as to why the beast was yapping at them.

Another bark came when neither responded. Again, the stupid humans didn't respond. In an effort to force them into following the dog rushed Cullen, circling his legs before running off a short distance, turning around and barking again.

Slowly, it seemed to dawn on the Commander that the beast was up to something.

"Barris, keep order while I'm gone."

Waiting only for a response from the young Templar, Cullen ignored all questions and protests as he legged up over his horse and started after the Mabari.

It must have been at least a mile before the dog slowed to a stop, trotting over to a snow drift.

Dismounting, Cullen again pushed aside the fear that he had neglected his promise to Peter to keep his sister safe.

His feet hurried him over to the drift where he dropped to his knees and began digging through the snow with the dog. The deeper they dug the more frantic he became. Finally, as if by some miracle granted by Andraste herself, he uncovered Evelyn. She was unconscious, her body battered, but when he pressed an ear to her lips he was relieved to find that she was still breathing.

Maker be praised.

Gathering the woman into his arms after wrapping her in his cloak, he mounted his horse and set off with her safely ensconced in his lap. The Mabari followed swiftly behind The Commander's galloping horse.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: A bit of an early update for everyone. This began as a writing exercise which ended up needing to be a chapter for reasons. You'll understand at the end. Again, I really want to thank you all for your continued support as this beast of a story develops.**

**A special thank you to ****InfiniteCarnage**** for your helpful reviews and words of advice when I needed them.**

**Please go check out ****InfiniteCarnage's**** story "Qunari Threats & Flirting". It is amazing and features our favorite dwarf Varric as he struggles with his developing feelings for the Inquisitor.**

**Musical inspiration for this chapter is credited to ****Zoe Keating - Seven League Boots**** which will be placed on the playlist shortly.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>You should try to wake up. They're worried about you.<em>

Evelyn groaned, attempting to swat weakly at the presence she sensed around her. Her limbs felt leaden.

_I know you are hurting, but so are they. Wake up. Show them you're alright and their guilt will go away._

Her lips felt as if they refused to move. "Cole, you should know better than to interrupt a lady's beauty sleep."

Evelyn sounded perfectly coherent to herself. Cullen only heard faint mumble as he looked down at her from atop his horse.

Varric and Blackwall must have heard it too. The dwarf turned around from his seat at the front of the wagon to see if their adorable little Herald of Andraste had finally awoken. He was disappointed when her eyes remained firmly shut.

"Damn. Well, at least she's making noise."

"At least she's _alive_," Blackwall corrected easily, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder.

Behind them marched the bulk of the Inquisition's forces, the steady pounding of feet on top of the cushioning snow broke the silence of the deserted mountain pass.

The dwarf snorted. "Yeah, but she won't be for long if she doesn't wake up to eat or drink. I've seen people waste away while they sleep after getting knocked on the head."

"She will wake up," Cullen replied, not willing to think on the alternative Varric posed.

"Wish I shared your rare fit of optimism, Curly," he grumbled before turning forward and back to the path ahead.

It was not optimism, Cullen thought as he brought his attention back to observing her once more. It was certainty. He had grown accustomed to her energy in their extended travels together which afforded him a way to identify her active and inactive states.

She was mentally active, and he was positive that her body would eventually follow suit.

Cullen felt the familiar brand of energy brush up against his senses and knew at once that she had slid back into a deep slumber. Her connection to the Fade now was strong and distorted the Veil around her.

Satisfied that she would, for the moment, remain asleep he recalled the events that transpired after he'd discovered her half frozen in the snow.

_The Inquisition could not stay on the windward side of the mountain forever. Once he rode back into the camp with her he had been met by a thoroughly flustered Cassandra. The rest of their company moved quickly to set up a space to assess the injured Herald of Andraste. _

_Solas had been the one to examine her and had returned to the three advisers with the news that she would make a full recovery._

"_She had a fractured rib, a minor concussion, a twisted ankle, and several lacerations. While she will be slow for a while, she should be well before the month is out." His voice was sure and a bit curious, as if he had discovered something he found particularly interesting about her. "I've healed the bone and skin. She just needs to work through the rest."_

"_Thank goodness for that," Leliana echoed Cullen and Josephine's sentiments. _

Evelyn mumbled again, and his eyes roamed over the cart they had cleared for use in transporting her. It was lined with furs to make it more comfortable, and she had been nearly buried with blankets in an effort to warm her. All they could do was wait until her body decided to wake up, Solas had said.

He felt the swell of her magic recede as she drew close to waking once more. Well, it appeared as if Evelyn was going to be joining them again shortly.

Sticking his fingers between his lips he whistled, drawing the attention of Cassandra and Leliana who turned their mounts around to meet him.

"She is waking?" Cassandra asked, her Nevarran accent thickening in her distress. Of all of them, the Seeker seemed to be taking Evelyn's near death the hardest.

Cullen came in a close second, but only because he had refused to believe she would die.

"She is stirring and speaking, though I'm not certain as to whom," he replied steadily.

"Oh, she's talking to me."

The three of them jumped, Cassandra's horse rearing back at the sudden and inexplicable appearance of a young man crouching on the sideboard nearest Evelyn's head.

Cullen drew his sword and Leliana her bow, preparing to strike should the need arise. Varric ducked.

"Identify yourself," Leliana commanded in a steely voice.

"My name is Cole," he replied easily, as if two very dangerous people did not have their weapons trained solely on him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Helping. Evelyn needs someone to wake her up."

"How do you know her?" Cullen finally spoke, eyes fixed on the boy. He could sense magic. Of course he had. The boy had literally appeared out of thin air. If he was not a mage then he was something else, and in his experience that "something else" was usually a demon.

"We met at Therinfal when she was trying to help the Templars. Envy had invaded her mind, and I showed her how to push it out."

Solas and Dorian appeared then, seeming to have felt the same atypical energy as Cullen.

"It seems a spirit has decided to join us," Solas commented, studying Cole carefully. "It must have been drawn to Evelyn."

"Do spirits always wear a human's skin?" Cullen growled quietly, not looking away from the boy. His unease was palatable.

"Not that I've seen, but don't fear. This is no demon."

"Correct! A demon is much uglier than a spirit. This one seems to enjoy dressing up, is all." The Tevinter mage shrugged, sensing no immediate danger. "Though I can't say much for its taste in hats."

Leliana seemed to relax only slightly. "So you are a spirit?"

"I don't know," the boy replied, looking up at the Commander from beneath the brim of his hat. "I will not hurt her."

Why it was looking at him and not Leliana was a mystery to Cullen. Perhaps it had been watching them. While that thought of being unwittingly exposed to a being of the Fade made his skin crawl, the notion that "Cole" had yet to do anything contentious eased his mind. Barely.

"See that you don't," was all the Commander could manage civilly between gritted teeth. _Or I will gut you with the Maker's blessing._

They continued travelling for a few more miles. Evelyn stirred occasionally, always drawing Cullen's eye as he watched for the precise moment of her waking. He needed to see for himself that she was alive and well.

Leliana had taken point in front of the wagon while he and Cassandra remained beside it. Solas and Dorian had taken up conversation somewhere behind them. Cole had moved to the sideboards nearest Cullen, sitting on a small lip of wood with one leg folded beneath him and the other dangling over the edge of the wagon while it swung aimlessly back and forth over the snow. The creature watched Evelyn with an impassive expression, but her more consistent mumbling led Cullen to believe the thing was actually speaking to her.

His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to strike it down. Leliana had seemed to want to keep it around to learn more from it. It could be useful, she had said. Cullen was of the opinion that adding a potential demon into their ranks would _not _help their situation. He would not allow Evelyn to become possessed.

"Body heavy, she tries to get up. She has to find them because she knows the cold is slowly killing her. She cannot see anymore. She cannot hear. She only knows she wants to be with them, safe, warm. Oranges."

Cullen's eyes speared the creature. "What?"

"The smell of oranges, it reminds her of the sun. Warm summers spent playing in the tall grass behind the manor as a little girl. The taste is both sweet and sour, but she loves it. Always a gift for her when father returns from Orlais."

"This is starting to get really creepy really fast, kid." Varric spoke up from the front seat. "What are you doing anyway?"

Yes, Cullen thought, what was it doing? Thankfully the story-weaving dwarf had not made the same connection he had about oranges, of all things.

"Talking."

"Yeah, I got that, but what about?"

"Evelyn. Always studying. No time for anything else. She hasn't felt the sun on her skin in months. She misses the smell of the sea. Being here without him is torture. Hand flies to her neck, gripping the pendant there. No. Stomp it down. Misery helps no one."

Anyone could see the cogs were turning in the dwarf's head at a dizzying pace as he pieced together Cole's meaning.

"You're talking about her time in the Circle?"

The spirit simply inclined his head to the dwarf, leg still swinging over the edge of the wagon.

* * *

><p>It was that night after the sun had begun to slip below the horizon that she rose from the pile of furs and blankets, wondering how on Thedas she hadn't been crushed by the sheer weight of them.<p>

Her eyes first alight on the sky, looking as if it had been set on fire from the shock of pinks, reds, and oranges that merged together like a tapestry over her head. Maker, she could wake up to this every day.

"Hands are shaking, head throbbing with pain, but he pushes it aside. He focuses on her and his promise."

She turned around at the familiar voice. "Hello, Cole. I didn't think I would see you again. Why do you look like a human?"

"We've been wondering the same thing," a voice said from behind her. She found Solas and Cassandra smiling at her to which she could only smile back.

She _had_ made it back to them. She wasn't dead!

"Thank the Maker you are awake. We didn't think…"

"Seeker Pentaghast has been very worried for you," Solas interrupted. "We all have."

Evelyn made her way to the edge of the make-shift bed, meaning to hop off onto the ground. Thankfully, a strong and solid hand reached up to hold hers, helping her off the wagon and steadying her when her legs wobbled from disuse. Cullen, she knew instantly. Looking up at him she offered a small smile. "Thank you."

"I am glad you are safe," was his quiet reply.

She studied him a moment, seeing the fatigue in his eyes and the relief in his private smile. A few days worth of stubble shadowed his jaw, but the look was rather charming in a rugged sort of way. "I am as well." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Have you slept?"

He shook his head, offering no further explanation as Solas came over to retrieve her for a final examination. She felt perfectly fine, though a little sore. Cassandra followed them into her own tent, keen on getting the facts from the elf about Evelyn's condition.

The inside of the tent was as uniform and spartan as the Seeker herself. As Solas checked her head and pressed on her rib cage she frowned at the woman who always looks so determined and sure of herself.

"Cassandra, I feel fine."

"You are not fine," she grit out, the corners of her eyes tightening.

Knowing she was definitely not going to win this argument, nor certain she had the mental fortitude to do so anyway, Evelyn dropped the subject in favor of another.

"Where are we?" She hadn't recognized any of her surroundings.

"I don't think even we know where we are," Cassandra huffed, looking pointedly at Solas.

The elf very nearly rolled his eyes at the Seeker's obvious lack of confidence in his knowledge. "I know the path is old, but I promise it leads to a place where the Inquisition can start over."

Evelyn cocked her head. "What is this place? Are we headed further into Ferelden?"

"No. At the moment we are headed due North along the spine of the Frostbacks. I'm confident that in the next day or so we will reach a place called Skyhold. At least, that's what the last human's to hold it named the fortress."

"It is deserted?"

"To my knowledge it's been empty since the beginning of the Age."

Evelyn recalled Solas explaining to her how he entered the Fade to learn about the past. Despite her own strong connection to the place, she had never heard of such an ability, let alone tried it. It sounded fascinating to her, and when she expressed an interest in learning how to see as he did, the elf merely chuckled and told her that he didn't think he could explain how he did it if he tried.

"We have no where else to go," Cassandra spoke firmly. "This seemed like our best option. Even the Commander agreed that we should find a new base of operations, though I suspect he was only half-listening to the discussion."

"He does seem distracted," Evelyn agreed. "Is he feeling alright?"

"He will be fine. He's just a stubborn ass."

At the Seeker's broody outburst, Evelyn blushed. "I see."

"It's nothing to concern yourself over." Cassandra's words held a note of finality, though Evelyn felt as if there was something she wasn't telling her.

* * *

><p>"<em>This <em>is the mighty fortress?" Josephine cast a critical eye about the hall that lay in complete shambles. How were they to present an organized front with this mess to greet potential visitors? They were more likely to trip over chunks of mortar and break their own necks.

"It...does need some work," Leliana agreed.

Cullen stood with his hands on his hips looking in the opposite direction. The fortifications were their first order of business should they decide to adopt this place. For their age, all defensive structures seemed in decent order. He brought up a gloved hand to scratch the rather thick, short beard that'd grown in the absence of his shaving kit.

"This is manageable. First we work on cleaning up, and then we form a list of the most critical repairs."

The two women nodded their agreement, stilling when Evelyn waltzed into the hall with a grin plastered on her face, Varric and Cassandra hovering like mother hens right behind her.

"This place is _huge_!" She called out as she turned in a circle to observe the sheer extent of her surroundings.

"Slow down there, Sunshine. You might want to pay attention to where you put your feet." Varric advised the enthusiastic mage with a laugh.

"Sunshine now, is it? I thought you had your heart set on Happy or Blondie." Evelyn grinned down at her friend a moment before moving about the massive hall. This place was incredible. If the Inquisition set up here, they would have much more room to expand.

She had gone over her encounter with Corypheus with Leliana first before repeating herself to nearly every curious person who'd the courage to ask her of it. Cullen had listened with great interest, even going so far as to pull out a quill and parchment to begin jotting details down.

Methodical and intelligent, not much had escaped his quick hand and quicker mind.

"I've tried a bunch of names out, but none quite fit until Sunshine. You can blame the kid for that one."

"Cole? What'd he have to do with it?"

"Let me put it this way: whenever he does the freaky read-your-mind stream of consciousness thing on you he always mentions the sun. Given your weirdly positive attitude, I figured Sunshine would do nicely. And whaddya know? It stuck."

"I suppose I should be thankful," she laughed. "I've been called worse things."

"Worse? You?"

"Don't forget mages are reviled in many parts of Thedas."

"Anyone who thinks poorly of you needs a reality check. You're the nicest mage I know, and that includes Hawke."

"Varric, stop pandering to Evelyn. You could just _ask_ her to read your manuscript." Cassandra sighed impatiently.

"Oh, you think that's what this is about? Seeker, you have such little faith in me."

"You're right. I do."

Evelyn sighed, rolling her eyes until they made contact with Cullen's.

Leaving the pair of nattering, willful enemies behind, she walked toward him and the other advisers.

"Do you think the Inquisition will stay here?"

"I believe we will. It's a defensible fortress and it only needs minor repairs, all things considered." Cullen replied.

Josephine huffed impatiently. "If we are to complete this filthy task, then let us begin. I at least need a functioning office before the day is out."

Cullen rolled a shoulder as the ambassador walked away. "She is just upset because Skyhold didn't come scrubbed down and ready for occupation." A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Nobles have frighteningly warped priorities."

Evelyn smiled despite the unintentional slight against her personal connection to the upper class. She didn't think he meant it like that.

"It is very dirty, but the clean up will keep everyone busy for a while. Working together like this will help build relationships." She shifted to cross her arms in front of her, eyeing the masterwork stained glass windows beyond them. "At least…"

"No, you're right. It's a guild team building exercise - and one that will benefit all of us once this dust is cleared away."

He was surprised when she smiled sheepishly up at him, even more so when he returned the gesture.

They had seemed to at last have found it within themselves to treat one another as they would any other person. Evelyn had found that there was more to Cullen then his taciturn disposition, and Cullen had grudgingly accepted that Evelyn was not the reason for the incident at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She had allowed her initial bias of him to affect her developing knowledge of his character. He had shamefully allowed his deep-seated hatred of magic to warp his opinion of her as a person. They'd both been mistaken in their prejudices.

Neither had realized that they had been studying one another the entire time until Varric cleared his throat.

"Remember how we were going to clean up that little Chantry with the kid, Sunshine?"

Her eyes reluctantly shifted to the dwarf. "Where is Cole, anyway?"

"Here"

Everyone in the room jumped save for Evelyn, who only smiled at the spirit. "Would you help me with something? I want to try and repair the statue of Andraste."

Cole nodded, and while Cullen wanted to object to Evelyn spending any time with the spirit at all, he felt a bit better knowing that Cassandra would be with them.

"You were going to clean the Chantry before you knew for certain we would be staying here?" Cullen asked.

She merely nodded and said, "I couldn't just leave her there broken and with an inch of dust settled on her."

That was something they had in common, he mused as he watched her walk off with her little group. They were both rather devout Andrastians.

"By the way, Curly," Varric interrupted his thoughts once more. "I've called in a friend of ours. She's familiar with Corypheus and I think she can help sort this all out."

"I see. When can we expect our esteemed guest?"

The dwarf laughed at him. "Still nursing that wounded ego, eh? I'd expect her within a fortnight."

Maker, Cullen thought as Varric hurried to catch up with Evelyn, why did it have to be _her_?

* * *

><p>Later that evening they had cleaned up well enough to eat rations off of a table they had managed to move all the way up from the larder. Two flights of stairs and a few hundred pounds of timber had them all sweating except for Bull who could only assist with one side due to his impressive height.<p>

The return to a semblance of normalcy was welcome to Cullen as he sat munching on a piece of bread with a cup of wine in his opposite hand. He observed the occupants of the table with a sort of detached curiosity, sitting back in his chair with one ankle perched atop his knee. All were speaking animatedly to one another, sharing stories and accounts from their time in the mountains. Many were relieved they finally had a proper roof over their heads. Proper in this case meaning something other than limitless sky.

All except Evelyn.

She sat with a cup between her long scholar's fingers, elbows resting on the arms of her chair listening to one of Varric's tales, and yet she seemed like her mind was elsewhere. Perhaps she was thinking about her ordeal with the Elder One - Corypheus - he reminded himself. While she had been forthcoming with the details, he'd suspected it had affected her more deeply than she let on.

While their companions had finished their meals and began to become engrossed in other activities around the new keep, Cullen stood and approached her.

"Evelyn, would you join me? There's something I'd like to show you."

She started, not having expected him to move from his position at the end of the table where he had been brooding all evening. "Oh? Alright."

She stood and followed him when he turned away from her. They headed along a side passage and again down a flight of narrow stone steps until the closed space cleared up into a massive open floor.

On one end of the room a pair of double doors the size of which surpassed those leading to the main hall stood broken inward, a tide of dirt and rock lying between and beneath them. On the other end stood an entire wall of stained glass in the same style as upstairs. It created a very pretty light show against the stone walls as the fading rays of the sun filtered through the window.

"Wow…" She breathed, stepping fully into the room and toward the window. "Do you think this was a ballroom?"

"Most likely," Cullen replied, now on the opposite end of the space. "How are you feeling?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him, but his back was turned to her as a hand traced a pattern of colored light on the stone.

"I feel fine. Much better with all of the ah...attention Casandra has been raining down on me. I honestly think she believes I'm going to drop dead at any moment."

He turned around then, meeting her eyes as she slowly walked the perimeter of the room. "She is only worried for your safety. She is also unused to dealing with someone who is so vulnerable. I confess that I share her concerns."

"I am weak and therefore need protection?" She queried, a somewhat stern note carrying in her voice across the empty space between them.

He inclined his head to her, thinking on how to phrase this in such a way that she would not be angry with him.

"Not exactly. When we were at Therinfal I noticed that you had very limited experience working in an actual fight. You wanted to focus your attention on one subject, but needed to be aware of several things at once. That's not weakness, but a matter of experience."

She slowed to a stop, watching him carefully from the corner of her eye. "What are you getting at, Commander?"

He strode toward her, taking both of her hands in his. "I would teach you if you let me. I feel it's important for you to at least be able to defend yourself if I, Cassandra, or any of the others aren't able to reach you in time." He dropped her hands then, and turned slightly away, but still held her gaze. "Besides, you'd definitely be more useful in that capacity, and wouldn't draw anyone away from a fight to protect you."

She snorted, happening to agree with him. However, she wasn't about to tell him that after what he'd just said. "Interesting proposition. How do you intend to teach me?"

Words were not useful for this sort of thing. "Put up your barrier." He drew his sword. "I will attack and you will defend. Start with that. Sound fair?"

She surprised him with a quick smile and at once he felt the air around them sizzle with the strength of her magic.

His heart began to beat faster, fingers adjusting on the grip of his sword. Despite her obvious power, he did not experience the usual anger and fear at feeling it as he had in years past with other mages. He felt excitement.

"It's fair. So all I do is try and block you?"

"Don't try. Do it. Trying gets you killed."

"You're so positive," she laughed before blocking a quick strike of his. Overhand, but it lacked conviction.

He said no more, striking from one side then another as she blocked each one with a well timed barrier. She did not hold the spell, likely to conserve energy. She was an intelligent mage, he'd give her that. Many of her fellows would panic and try to sustain the spell leading to a swift drainage of mana. In fact, many an inexperienced Templar relied on that mistake to capture their unwilling charges.

Satisfied that she was familiar with the basics, he faked her out, spinning once to her left and bringing the sword up, not down, to halt at her waist. The blade rest harmlessly against her armor as she had failed to anticipate the indirect attack.

"I see what you mean," she breathed. "May we try again?"

He removed the sword as he took a step back from her, nodding his assent. "Say the word when you tire."

"Or when you lop one of my arms off by accident."

He made a face. "You've been hanging around Bull too much."

* * *

><p>The next morning was a cool one, but Evelyn found her way to the small Chantry to kneel in front of the repaired statue of Andraste for her morning prayers. She'd been remiss in her devotions since leaving the Circle. She intended to fix that beginning today.<p>

Adjusting her weight on top of her legs, she bowed her head and closed her eyes, allowing her magic to thrum around her as she relaxed into the comfort of the Chant. The words of the benediction flowed as easily from her lips as water flowing in a stream, and as every time she prayed to the Maker, her fingers curled around the pendant at her throat.

That night after dinner she met Cullen in the neglected ballroom. She did the following night, and the next, and the one after that. The mage and ex Templar had settled into a routine that evolved from simply giving Evelyn the knowledge she needed to survive a battle to finer and more complicated move sets she may encounter.

"What is that one for?" She asked, curious about the quick sword strike which had been followed up with a low strike to her knees by his foot, and then an overhead swing.

"That's usually for a mage defending themselves with a staff. The idea is to confuse them with the initial hits and then immobilize them. The overhead is optional depending on whether you want to kill your target or not."

She absorbed that, finding it unsettling but also enlightening. Cullen was teaching her these moves to improve her chances against Templars who had defected to Corypheus' side. She would be in the most danger from them, after all.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you know all of this so completely. How long were you in the Order?"

He thought a moment, resting his naked blade against his armored shoulder. "Since I was thirteen. Twenty years now, I suppose. It feels longer."

She let out an impressed whistle. "That's young. I was sent to the Circle at nine. Father tried to keep me out for as long as he could."

"I wanted into the Order, desperately. I wanted to stand for something." He laughed, perhaps a tad bitterly. "I wanted to be more than a farmer." Cullen regarded her with a veiled expression. "The more you say of your father, the more I respect him. Even with all of my prejudice against mages, it was always the hardest taking the children away."

"That is the most regrettable aspect of the Circle, I admit. I think you and he would get along, my father, I mean. You share many of the same views."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he remained silent.

She was vaguely aware that they were staring at one another again. Clearing her throat, she brought forth a suggestion she'd been ruminating on since they had begun these little sessions.

"Would you…"

He cocked his head at her pause, silently bidding her to continue.

"Would you be willing to allow me to try something on you? Magic. Since the encounter with Corypheus, I've realized that I need to be able to do more than simply defend myself. I was utterly useless against him and-"

"What did you have in mind?" Came his easy reply. His posture was a bit stiffer, no doubt at her implication of performing offensive magic. It seemed he was still wary of her in that respect.

"The barrier I use is a branch of force magic. I've been toying with the idea of maybe adapting it into an attack." She fidgeted when she described her idea, as if the notion made her severely uncomfortable.

"Why does using an offensive spell unsettle you so much? Wasn't that a basic skill you were taught at the Circle?" He seemed more curious than anything.

"No. I opted out. My father told me for years that practicing offensive magic would turn me into a target for the Templars. To stay beneath their notice I only practiced healing and defensive spells."

"So, in other words, you are capable but you just don't know how and are afraid to go against your father's advice."

She nodded. "That is...accurate."

He thought on it a moment or two, tapping his blade against his shoulder before giving a quick nod.

"Alright"

He trusted her judgement. If she did end up somehow hurting him, he knew her well enough to understand that it would be an accident. After all, it was the intent behind the weapon that mattered and not the weapon itself.

Maker, it'd taken him years to really understand that.

She couldn't hide the shock in her expression. "Really? You'll help?"

"Of course, but first, for my sake, maybe we should try it on something that's not living." He held up his shield loosely and slipped it from his forearm as he walked a fair distance away to place it on the stone floor. "Target practice for now and tomorrow night you can try to hit me if we determine it's safe?"

She nodded readily. "Yes, absolutely."

He retreated a few paces behind her. Again he felt the stirring of her magic, absently thinking that he perhaps enjoyed the sensation too much for someone who despised the stuff. Though it wasn't just any magic. It was hers.

She flicked her hands nervously, breathing out slowly before summoning her barrier. Minutes passed and Cullen could practically feel her distress. He understood. It took guts to go against everything you'd ever believed in - against everything you were taught.

All at once the feeling of magic intensified, sending his hair standing on end before she finally did it. With one motion of her graceful arm she lashed out, sending her barrier toward the shield. It skittered across the floor with some force, startling her enough that she immediately pulled herself back.

Cullen walked up behind her with his arms crossed over his chest. "You're pretty powerful even if you don't have a clue what you're doing."

She shot him peeved look before her eyes settled back on the shield. "At least...at least I know I can do it."

"It'll be useful to you, I'm sure."

"But I'm not sure I want to use it."

"Why not?"

"It just seems so violent."

"But you can see the benefit in a little violence, right?"

Her doubtful silence said that she didn't.

"Look, you have good deal of control over your abilities, yes? It stands to reason that you would be able to control the intensity of the spell." Cullen walked over to pick up his shield, holding it in front of him. "Start small and hit me."

"_What?"_

"You heard me." Yes, and he heard himself, wondering just where his mind had run off to. It certainly wasn't in his head. "Go on. Try it."

She hesitated, but when it appeared that he was not going to budge from his position she began to gather herself again, forming the barrier. It was a small one. Once more she focused, pushing out at the barrier until it shot forward.

The impact hardly affected Cullen, who was used to far heavier blows from much less forgiving opponents.

"Try again," he said, his confidence in her building.

She did so. This time it was a bit stronger, pushing him back perhaps a foot.

"Again," he called, taking up stance behind his shield.

This next attack was stronger, and when she pushed it away she knew instantly that it was too strong. True to her fears, the blast knocked Cullen off his feet.

"Maker! I'm sorry!"

She rushed over to him, but he was waving her off of him with a smirk. "I'm fine. Now _that_ is an attack that would give a Templar pause." He sat up on his elbows, halting abruptly when he found his face inches from hers. Her worried expression was...adorable. Andraste preserve him, he was growing complacent around her.

"You're sure you aren't hurt?"

"I promise," he spoke, finding himself unable to look away from her. "But thank you for worrying."

Later that night in the privacy of his office Cullen paced as was his habit when he was distressed. What was that? Where in the Fade had that desire to kiss her come from?

He groaned, scrubbing at his face with his hands. It was clear he was becoming far too comfortable around this mage.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello again, friends! Thanks a bunch for all of the reviews, favorites and follows this story is getting. You're all so nice with your reviews (and I swear some of you are psychic). If I could snatch you all up and hug you to death, I would. **

**I thought I'd address a few questions I've been getting: Yes, I have the entire story outlined. I plan on completing it. I tend to work organically, so I can't say the exact number of chapters Enduring Knight will have, but I would make a guess around 15. I will write more stories, in fact I have a little four chapter snippet I've titled Hollow Victory. It's about Knight Commander Meredith - 'cause let's face it, she's a BAMF. **

**I also wanted to take the time to ask my readers what they think of my bumping the rating of this story up to M. While I can definitely keep it T, there are some non-sexual plot points that I would like to elaborate on. If you have an opinion, there is a poll on my profile where you can vote.**

**This chapter is a baby, but I wanted it to stand alone. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

><p>At some point during the course of his crisis he must've fallen asleep, for when he woke it was apparent that he hadn't even made it to his own bed. Instead he was reclined in his desk chair, arms falling limply to his sides. There was also that nasty crick in his neck.<p>

Cullen opened his eyes to his darkened office. Though the sun was beginning to rise, it would be some time before its rays reached the protected walls of Skyhold. He could work with that.

At least no one had come in to see him in such a negligent state of repose.

Right about the time he'd thought he would escape the folly of the previous night with his dignity intact, a large wet tongue lapped at the tips of his dangling fingers.

He snatched his hand away, glaring over at the dog who'd opened his dopey jowls in what the Commander suspected was the canine version of a grin. Then its tongue lolled out.

Curling his upper lip in an annoyed scowl, Cullen straightened himself and stretched with his arms above his head as he stood.

When he looked down the dog remained, still panting with that absurd pink tongue wiggling about.

"Go away."

Figuring he'd get to work early, Cullen sat back down in his chair to begin reorganizing the reports he'd apparently scattered during the course of his sleep. He was ever a messy, pushy sleeper. Once when he was just a new recruit in the Order, he had flailed about so much while he slept that he'd fallen right out of his bunk. The sizable drop to the floor left him stunned and at the mercy of the other recruits who teased him mercilessly about it for years after.

That was one of the few pleasant memories he had of the Order.

His eyes scanned the parchment before him as he tapped his lips with the end of his quill. How best to word this…

A sudden weight in his lap jarred him from his thoughts and he looked down to scowl once more at the blighted dog. Its head was couched firmly on one thigh, doleful eyes turned up to meet his.

"What do you want? Leave. I have work to do."

It didn't. The beast only had the audacity to whine which added to Cullen's steadily growing headache. Maker, if this dog wasn't so precious to Evelyn he would have fed it to a troll.

Seeing that he would get no peace here, the irritated Commander rose again. Dislodged from his previous position, the Mabari stood with that stupid dog grin on its face.

Cullen didn't even spare a backward glance as he left the room, but the clicking of claws on the stone beside him told him that he was being followed.

The beast was a plague, a pestilence, a bloody nuisance. Only once in the entirety of its existence had it redeemed itself for being so aggravating, and that was the day it had helped save Evelyn.

He eyed the dog trotting along at his side. "You are lucky, beast."

It barked, seeming to agree with him on that.

Cullen hadn't paid much attention to where his feet were carrying him, or realized the Mabari was herding him, until he opened the Chantry door, startling Evelyn out of her prayers. He shot a murderous glare at the dog before quickly apologizing to her.

She shook her head, moving over to make room for him on the worn old prayer mat she had found. "It's fine. You're welcome to join me if you'd like."

If he were smart he would have made an excuse to not take her up on her offer.

He didn't.

Ignoring the tongue-waggling, grinning Mabari outside, he heeled the door shut and took the spot Evelyn had cleared for him on the mat. She waited for him to settle before resuming the Chant, and though he usually participated, he found in this instance he could not. He desired to listen to her voice speak the words rather than worship himself, and that blasphemous little desire had him asking the silent visage of Andraste for forgiveness. So consumed was he with his repentance that he hadn't noticed she had finished, and was now sitting quietly studying him.

Evelyn held her smile inward, pleased that he had come when he did. She had a frightening encounter last night while she slept. Again, something had come into her room, keen on prowling about to unnerve her before it demanded only one thing.

Let me in.

She suppressed a shudder. Whatever it was, it was demonic in nature. Her worry was that part of Envy still existed and had somehow followed them from Therinfal. She'd never heard of such a thing, but that did not mean it was impossible. She only wished for it to not be true.

Cullen's quiet, strong presence comforted her. It made her feel protected, though she wasn't sure he would be able to do much about something neither of them could clearly identify or even see. Still, she was relieved.

Waiting a few more minutes, she dared to speak and hoped she wasn't interrupting anything important. "Did you sleep well?"

He took a steadying breath. "More or less."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I fell asleep in my desk chair."

She smirked. "Do you ever stop working?"

"Not if I can help it," he admitted. Staying busy was one way to keep his body distracted from the increasingly persistent side effects of his condition. It also exhausted him so thoroughly that he didn't dream. That was a blessing.

The delicate frown on her face almost convinced him to confide in her, but he didn't want to worry her. He also didn't want to risk the nature of his "illness" getting out. This was a private matter, and only he and Cassandra knew the whole of it.

"Do you have bad dreams?"

Maker, she was insightful. No wonder Josephine had lobbied so vehemently for her to remain with them.

"Usually."

"Me too."

He hadn't expected that. Turning more fully toward her, he cocked his head questioningly. He knew mages were constantly exposed to negative influences from the Fade, but Evelyn explicitly knew the difference between a bad dream and a solicitation from a demon.

She brought her legs out from beneath her and instead pulled them up in front of her. Her arms wrapped around her knees while she propped her chin atop them.

"What are yours about?" She asked curiously, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

Oh, if she only knew how complicated answering that question was.

"I'm not exactly sure how much of it is memory and how much of it is just my mind making things up, but my worst dreams are from the collapse of the Circle at Kinloch Hold." Just speaking of it aloud gave him anxiety. He'd endured months of counseling at Gwaren after the fact which was when they began to raise his Lyrium doses. They said it would help, but it didn't deal with the bitter hatred he had felt toward mages and anything else having to do with magic - only the memories. Fuzzy for most of his time in Kirkwall, the nightmares were returning in terrifyingly vivid force.

She bit her lower lip, sensing his discomfort on the subject. While curious, Evelyn couldn't bring herself to make him relive whatever had happened just to satisfy her own curiosity.

"I'm sorry for prying."

"It's alright," he responded immediately. He wasn't ready to talk about this, and wasn't sure if he ever would be regardless of how kind and understanding Evelyn was.

"So what about the better times with the Order, or were you born with that scowl?"

He chuckled, pleased that she'd noticed his melancholy and combated it with humor.

"Oh, ha ha. Very funny. As it happens, I enjoyed my time when I wasn't being harried by abominations, demons, and demented Knight Commanders."

"Can you tell me about Kirkwall?" There was a hopeful, excited tone in her question. Clearly she was anticipating a good story.

"You could always talk to Varric about that."

"I want to hear your side, not the Champion's."

With an indulgent sigh he relented, beginning from the moment he stepped off the ship at the gallows.

* * *

><p>It was late morning when Cullen and Evelyn had finally parted ways with his promise that he would continue telling her about his time in Kirkwall at the evening meal. Belatedly, he realized that he would be spending even more time in her presence.<p>

He wasn't necessarily put off by the idea.

Maker only knew how much work he had neglected that day, but there was one thing he needed to attend to sooner rather than later.

His knock was answered by Josephine who was revealed upon his opening the old splintered pine door. She stood at her desk with a sheaf of paper in her hand and a quill tucked behind her ear.

"I've stopped by to tell you that I agree."

She blinked, turning away from her paper to fix him with a confused frown. "Agree with what?"

"That Evelyn should stay with us after the rifts are closed. She would be a great asset to the Inquisition."

He'd been observing her from a distance since their arrival at Skyhold. Initially he'd begun by telling himself that he was merely concerned for her health. After all, she'd been through quite the ordeal with Corypheus. Later, when it was obvious that she had made a full recovery, he'd watched her simply to try and figure her out. Cullen had puzzled over her since they'd met, and found himself filing away bits a pieces of information that would later allow him a better understanding of her.

Her patience was evident by the way she spoke to everyone with the same attention and concern. Her kindness was clear from the amount of time she spent playing with the Inquisition's displaced children. Her intelligence inarguably surpassed his own on matters of diplomacy. She and Cole could often be found milling around the soldier's sickbeds, both eager to assist the wounded and dying men in any way they could. Evelyn had quite the knack for nursing. All these things in addition to her unwavering empathy for others finally convinced Cullen that she did, in fact, have a place here in the Inquisition.

A wry smile lifted the corner of Josephine's mouth at his admission. "Are you saying that I was correct? I need to hear these words."

He laughed. "I'll say that your plea caused me to rethink my initial answer, but not that you were necessarily correct."

Leliana joined them, silently passing through the open doorway. "What are you two bullying each other over now?"

Josephine answered before he could gather the words to reply. "We think Lady Trevelyan should stay with the Inquisition. Do you not agree she would make a rather lovely figurehead?"

The spymaster hesitated only a moment before giving a swift nod. "She will need some coaching to withstand many of our noble guests, but she has the natural talent for speaking with people." She grinned at Cullen. "She's certainly won you over."

He snorted, not bothering to rise to the bait. Leliana was ever teasing him about one thing or another, though he knew her intentions were innocent play.

"Then it's settled," Josephine grinned, pleased that she had the support of her companions. "We will install her as the Inquisitor at the first opportunity. People will flock from all corners of Thedas to see the beautiful woman who would battle the evil denizens of the Fade to save the world." She snatched the quill from behind her ear. "I need to write that down."

The faint scratch of quill on parchment accompanied Leliana and Cullen's mutual looks of exasperation.

"Now all Cullen has to do is convince her to accept our offer," Josephine added with a flourish of her quill.

He blinked, momentarily confused. "What? Why me? This is your thing."

"It's your punishment for not agreeing with me from the first."

Scratch that. He had two unmerciful, teasing schoolgirls to contend with.

"Fine."

* * *

><p>"...and this..." Evelyn turned the book around so that it could be seen clearly by the group of children fanned out in front of her, "...is a picture of him."<p>

"It's huge!"

"Why does it have horns?"

"It's got red paint. I want red paint."

"How many people d'you think he's hacked up with that axe?"

"Eww! That's disgusting, Liam!"

She smiled, raising her eyes to the heavens to ask Andraste for understanding.

"First of all, Henry, he is not an "it". This is a Qunari."

"Well he's bloody massive, he is."

She nodded, in agreeance on that point. "Yes, but still a creation of the Maker."

"The Qunari don't believe in the Maker, right?"

"Correct, Kara - at least not in the same way we do. Which is perfectly fine."

Kara, the girl Cullen had pulled out of the burning house, was settling in nicely at Skyhold. Since her discovery in the Hinterlands she'd been taken in by a women who now worked in the kitchens. Having no daughters of her own and no fear of magic, she seemed the perfect fit for the mageling, and for that Evelyn was grateful. Kara had a place to call home, and had begun taking history lessons with Evelyn, her adopted brothers, and a gaggle of other boys and girls that'd come in with the Inquisition's rising number of supporters.

Kara furrowed her tawny brows for a moment, trying to puzzle out Evelyn's answer. The world was so full of hate and segregation that it must have been hard for her to separate all she had seen and been told with what her teacher was saying now. The girl was a quick study and had a good heart, however, and slowly came to understand the point the older woman was trying to make.

"Strength lies in differences and not similarities."

Evelyn grinned. "Exactly."

Cullen watched the group from just outside his tower door, the Mabari sitting at his feet having found him once again.

While he couldn't discern a word of what was being said across the courtyard, it was obvious the children were happy. He thought to admire Evelyn's patience with them. He certainly wouldn't have the wherewithal to endure the questioning, absurd comments, and constant fidgeting the little band of urchins assailed her with time and again. He liked children, certainly, but the moment he couldn't use his soldier's logic on them he was doomed.

Lesson apparently over for the day, Evelyn stood to see them off. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and it appeared at the same moment the dog noticed too. The Mabari let loose a growl, paws resting on the low wall.

Teague.

"Yeah, I don't blame you," Cullen spoke to the Mabari. "I don't like him, either."

The Templar started to walk toward the Tavern, but caught sight of Evelyn and abruptly changed course. Cullen hurried to intercept him before he got to her.

This would not go well.

The last of the children had hugged Evelyn and bid her goodbye before she realized he was behind her.

"Not good enough that you poison the Order, but now you're working on the kids, too? Tainted bitch."

Schooling her expression, she turned slowly, nodding her head to indicate she had heard him. "Good afternoon, Ser Teague. May I help you with something?" Evelyn kept her hands clasped in front of her, trying to appear non-threatening.

"You should be put down like the animal you are!" His voice carried to others in the yard just as his hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

Abruptly his grip failed him. Cullen grasped Teague's wrist and yanked him forward to throw him off balance, meeting the crooked Templar's face with his armored fist in a quick and debilitating punch. Teague stumbled backward, hands flying to his face in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood that had burst from his nose.

Cullen followed each of his backward movements by stepping forward, keeping himself in close proximity to the offensive man.

"Get out."

"But-"

Cullen struck out with his leg, sweeping it beneath Teague and knocking the Templar to the ground. The Commander crouched down beside the groaning, bloodied excuse for a man and lowered his voice to a threatening timbre.

"Get. Out."

When Teague lost consciousness Cullen sighed, motioning two soldiers over to them.

"I want him gone. Take him beyond the gates and drop him off wherever. I don't care."

"Looks like the Commander did alright," Bull said standing defensively beside Evelyn. He'd hurried toward her when Teague began making his threats, but Cullen had beaten him to the punch. Literally.

"A shame Teague couldn't let go of his anger." Evelyn murmured.

"Can't save everyone, Boss. Need anything, just holler." The massive Qunari relaxed and lumbered off back toward the bar.

Once the Templar had been unceremoniously dragged beyond the gates, Cullen turned back toward her. His amber eyes gave her a cursory once-over. Satisfied that she was unharmed, he let himself relax.

"Sorry about that."

"Are you okay?" She asked.

He snorted, but wore a small smile. "He attacks you, yet you worry over my safety?"

"He didn't touch me."

"Thank the Maker. He would have likely killed you were you alone."

Evelyn gave a smile of her own, holding up her hands to remind him of her magic. "Unlikely, but thank you."

Their mutual staring contest, something becoming maddeningly frequent, was interrupted by an amused guffaw.

"Takin' a gander at the last guy, looks like I joined up with you guys at the perfect time. When do I get to punch someone like that?"

The voice behind Cullen caused the Commander to tense again. He blew a sigh through his nose in irritation before he turned around to regard the raven-haired beauty who stood, hands on hips, with a lopsided grin before him.

"How's it hangin', _Commander_?"

"Hawke."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks again for the wonderful reviews, follows, and favorites. All I can say about this chapter is that it was exceptionally hard to write. There is so much I wanted to package up here, and I may have gotten a bit carried away. Despite that, I hope you find this installment just as entertaining as the rest!**

**A reminder that this will be the ****_last _****of the teen-rated chapters. From here on out this story will be rated M.**

* * *

><p>The sun was slipping beneath the horizon when Cullen finally left Hawke and Varric at the Tavern. Maker, she'd been through the ringer these past few years. Ever since she'd elected to leave Kirkwall behind her remaining companions had, one by one, left her side to pursue their own interests and lives. It'd left her somewhat alone, aside from the occasional run in with Isabella at port and writing to Varric. He'd even asked her about Fenris, one of the only people she'd hung around that he genuinely liked, to which she only quieted and told him to get back to work before he was missed. That was a suspiciously responsible comment for Hawke.<p>

Now here he was, having completely neglected his earlier goal of persuading Evelyn to become the Inquisition's political figurehead. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried. Today had been one thing after another, and frankly Teague's attempted assault on her had left Cullen feeling more than a little heated. The memory made his fingers tighten into fists, the anger flowing through him once more as he mounted the steps into the main hall.

Most were already eating as the day drew to a close. Children ran about, soldiers laughed boisterously in a corner, and Evelyn was nowhere to be found. Even at the table she and their agents usually occupied only Bull, Dorian and Solas remained.

The Qunari lifted his horned head in greeting as the Commander approached. "Good on you for putting that asshole in his place, Commander."

Dorian snorted, the indignant expression on his face mirroring Cullen's feelings on the subject. "I believe asshole is too nice an adjective for him."

Cullen could feel the mage's magic snap in tandem with his anger. It put him on the defensive. Though he knew Dorian was proficient at his craft, old habits died hard, and old fears even harder.

"If you're looking for her she's gone down to that horrible drafty ballroom with Cole, likely studying that text I gave her earlier." Dorian eyed Cullen with a bemused twitch of his mustache.

"I still think she should adopt the practices of a Keeper. She's already halfway there with her healing." Solas spoke more to himself, though the comment was intended for Dorian.

"Have you seen her work? Force magic is definitely her thing, though I don't know what she hopes to learn from a book. It's much better to practice and blow something up than rely on theory."

"To that, I agree," the elf replied, going back to sipping a mug of something that smelled a bit too much like dirt for Cullen's taste.

Their discussion had given him an idea. "Dorian, you should practice with her. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

"Oh no. I'm not as adept, even with her ignorance of how diverse her branch of magic is. I fear I would only confuse her. You know, whoever told her to never practice offensive magic clearly never anticipated her having to defend herself. It's preposterous."

"I have a feeling whoever told her that was intending on defending her in some other way," Cullen guessed, though he was beginning to suspect her association with the Templars ran deeper than she and Peter had let on.

"Who sucks at magic?"

Everyone looked up, but Cullen seemed to be the only person who didn't regard Hawke with complete surprise. Or adoration. Or unmitigated lust as in The Iron Bull's case.

"I thought you needed a moment," Cullen spoke quietly.

"Took it. I'm over it. So, seriously, who needs help?"

"Evelyn. She's never been taught how to use offensive spells. Obviously I cannot help her with the particulars - and being the test dummy has its drawbacks."

She snorted, raising a single black eyebrow at him. "You've let her hit you? With magic. You?"

"Yes, me."

Blowing a low whistle from between her lips she widened her eyes. "Damn, you have changed."

"Haven't we all?"

"Point taken. Now, how can I help?"

Cullen and Hawke paused at the base of the stair that led out to the ballroom.

"Images. Memories. They dance by without seeing. Laughs that make no sound. Energy with no place to go. It is sad, but it is natural."

"So you can see them as well? I shouldn't be surprised." Evelyn's voice carried throughout the stone chamber.

"Yes."

Cullen's brows snapped down over his eyes in a small frown, curious and yet uneasy about the nebulous subject they were discussing. Deciding he'd rather put an end to it than have it continue, he was the first to move into the room. Hawke fell in close behind him.

"Evelyn, do you have a moment?"

She turned to him with a smile, one which only widened when she caught sight of Hawke.

"I do, Commander. Serah Hawke, I don't believe we've been properly introduced."

Hawke smirked, clearly finding the woman's sense of propriety amusing. Whether that was good or bad, Cullen couldn't tell just yet.

"Please, just call me Hawke."

Evelyn nodded, kind expression unwavering. "I'm Evelyn Trevelyan. You can call me Evelyn. I'm not a particular fan of honorifics, either."

The smirk widened into a genuine smile. "So I hear you've been having trouble with Force magic?"

Evelyn's eyes flit to Cullen's questioningly a moment before falling back to Hawk's gaze. "That's correct."

"Well you're in luck. I've dabbled in that branch and I think I'll at least be able to show you the basics of tossing someone off your back."

The look of appreciation and relief on her face surprised Hawke. Apparently the mage's lack of experience had been weighing on her. Cullen had commented to her before they arrived that Evelyn, while cautious about the way her magic was used toward others, was not above learning a skill that may aid her in a difficult situation.

Obviously having a brush with death at the hands of an undead darkspawn magister from the Void itself would put anyone on edge. It'd certainly creeped Hawke out after she'd received Varric's letter.

"I appreciate it, Hawke. Oh, how rude of me." She stepped back to reveal Cole. "This is Cole. He's a spirit."

Hawk curled her lip. "Not Justice, I hope."

Cole's eyes passed knowingly over the Champion. "Mages and Templars. It wasn't supposed to come to this. Blood has to be spilled. Someone must pay. The flash of a knife. A silent death. Blood drips from her hands and she asks 'Why me?'"

"Neat party trick. Kinda scary."

Evelyn didn't seemed bothered in the least. "He means you no harm."

Cullen wanted to argue that, but held his tongue.

"I'll take your word for it. Now, if you're game to start, you should show me what you can do."

"This is _awesome_! How do you focus that well? I've never seen Force magic do this!"

Evelyn blushed at Hawke's praise, but was pleased to explain to the woman how she created her barrier. The two had learned much from one another, and while neither were instant masters at their new skills, the night had been educational none the less.

He didn't think he'd ever seen Hawke have fun, Cullen thought as he stood at the edge of the room watching them. There was a light that shone on her eyes that hadn't been there since the death of her mother. Evelyn seemed to be enjoying herself as well, rather quickly soaking up any word of advice Hawke had to offer.

Perhaps he'd created a monster, but he felt _good_ about this. It was as he'd said before: If Evelyn was going to be effective in a fight, she had to learn how to defend herself from damage and persistent assailants.

"She likes him," came Cole's soft voice over the din of firing spells. "He's sweet, but he's closed. Hiding something painful."

Cullen frowned, looking over at the Spirit who reclined against the wall beside him.

"Do you always do that?"

"It helps."

"Depends on who you think you're helping."

"You."

If he didn't know better, he'd say it was getting cheeky. When he looked back to argue the spirit was gone. Damned thing. It definitely wasn't helping.

"Well, I'm totally drained," Hawked groaned, stretching her arms above her head. "Don't know about you, but I'm going to head to the tavern and find a bed to crash in."

"You can stay here, if you like," Evelyn offered, but Hawke refused with an appreciative smile.

"Nah. I'll feel more at home sleeping above a bunch of drunk, belligerent refugees than in a quiet keep. Thanks for the offer. We should do this again sometime." Hawke made for the stair, nodding to Cullen before bidding them both goodnight.

"I think I've learned more from her in just a few hours than I have in years on my own. Hawke is a truly skilled mage."

Cullen only nodded, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at the notion of the pair of them in a room alone. Not just any room - _this _room. The room where he'd suddenly gotten the urge to brush his lips over hers, to see if it felt the same way her magic did when it sparked across his senses.

She likes you.

Damn. Definitely _not helping._

"Are you feeling alright?"

She was suddenly much closer, wearing that concerned little frown he was beginning to become fond of.

"You've asked me three times since this morning. Nothing has changed."

It'd come out a bit more irritated than he'd intended, but she gave no indication if his snappishness had bothered her. She only nodded with a quick apology.

"It is late. I should be getting to bed myself," she murmured, glancing out the windows to see the sliver of a moon shining beyond.

"Ah, that reminds me," Cullen spoke, drawing her sapphire-colored eyes back to him. "The other advisers and I have been speaking at length about you. We feel, if you agree that is, that we should offer you a more permanent and official place within the Inquisition."

She regarded him with a look of confusion.

He sighed, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck. "We would like you to stay with us formally - as the Inquisitor. It's mostly just a title, but the people love you. They rally behind you. If nothing else, you serve as a beacon of hope for them - a unifying force. That is exactly what we need."

She was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that Cullen thought he hadn't been clear enough or that she would refuse. She surprised him. Again.

"I would be working together with Leliana, Josephine, and you?"

The inflection she placed on the word "you" wasn't lost on him, momentarily bringing his mind back to his earlier desire.

"Yes." It was all he could do to sound professional about it. Thank the Maker that hadn't come out half-choked with nerves. Stuttering had been a problem of his before he'd been taken in by the Order. Since, it'd only become a nervous habit.

Evelyn smiled slowly. "I would like that."

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good. You just saved me from Josephine's unholy wrath."

* * *

><p>Evelyn moved into the hall through the set of massive double doors aware that she was late and worried Cullen would rescind the offer he'd made her the previous night. To her relief, he stood waiting for her outside the door to Josephine's office. When he spotted her he offered a small smile, but Evelyn could see plainly that if he had slept the previous night, it was very little.<p>

Samson walked quickly along at her side, a profusion of apologies on his lips for his associate's behavior the evening before.

"I apologize on Teague's behalf, my Lady. He did not mean-"

"Oh, he did mean, Samson. While I appreciate your desire to make amends, I really must be going now. With a small wave she hurried away to Cullen's side.

The Templar she left behind looked less than pleased, but turned quickly on his heel and left.

"Are you feeling well, Cullen?" Evelyn asked, noting the fatigue in his gaze.

"A bit under the weather. It will pass." He opened the door for her, letting her enter before he followed.

She didn't buy that this illness would pass as he'd said. She'd been noticing his deteriorating condition since their arrival at Skyhold and it worried her. The serious nature of whatever was ailing him had made itself apparent today by what he'd decided to wear to the war room. He'd forgone his armor and even the considerably lighter dress armor intended for less lethal tasks like signing orders. Instead he wore a simple pair of black buckskin leggings under his boots and a long-sleeved shirt of wyvern scales. Over that he'd kept his burgundy raiment with the high collar of long, black fur. It spoke volumes about how his body was handling whatever was bothering him. The clothing was light, offered little protection, and was simply warm and comfortable.

Cullen always wore armor - some even said while he slept. Something was wrong.

"Are you sure it's nothing I can help with?"

"No. You cannot help with this, but I thank you for the offer."

He pushed open another set of double doors and they stepped into the war room where Josephine and Leliana stood waiting for them. The Antivan was the first to greet Evelyn, walking over to take her hands on both of hers.

"I'm pleased that you've agreed to stay, Lady Trevelyan. Your support will do wonders for us socially."

Evelyn still had reservations about that, but if Josephine thought she could be useful, then she would listen to the woman. She knew what she was talking about.

"I am glad I can be of some help," She replied quietly with a small smile.

Her mind was still with Cullen, noting the way in which he crossed the room to round the table. There was a stiffness in his step and a lethargy to his movements that compounded her concern.

Leliana motioned Evelyn over to the table where Josephine joined them, and she approached to see the massive political map that spanned the entire space atop it. This particular map was different than the one lost at Haven, but several markers had been placed indicating previously addressed situations.

"Once we formally instate you," Leliana began, "Josephine and I would like to task you with returning to Val Royeaux. We have garnered the interest of a highly placed Knight Enchanter by the name of Lady Vivienne of Wycome. She was set to assume the role of First Enchanter at Montsimmard, but when the Circles fell she was displaced."

Evelyn inclined her head, smirking in a way that pulled Cullen's interest.

"I know of her."

"Excellent. Then you two will probably get along." Leliana spoke without looking up from the map. She completely missed Evelyn's pleading look to the heavens or the nervous laugh she muffled with the back of her hand.

"We should also mention the instatement ceremony," Josephine intervened, scribbling something down on that board of hers.

"Ceremony?" Evelyn quirked one pale brow at Cullen, who only shrugged back in confusion.

"Yes. We need to make a day of it. There can be no doubt that we officially support your new role in the Inquisition. We will need proper robes made for you and-"

A knock at the door interrupted her. When Josephine called to enter a woman swept in with a bolt of what Evelyn thought to be very fine raw silk in a shade of red she had never before encountered. It reminded her of an Embrium bloom.

Close behind the fabric came a soldier bearing a long wooden box.

"Ah! Just in time," Josephine smiled, clearly pleased with whatever was going on. Everyone in the room aside from Leliana looked completely flummoxed. "Evelyn, you will need to go with Fiora to get your measurements taken, but first you should see the sword."

The poor mage felt like a whirlwind was beginning to swirl about her. "Sword?"

"It's the ceremonial blade belonging to the Inquisition since the first. I thought you could use it to make your instatement more...powerful."

The man holding the box opened the lid to reveal a very old, very finely crafted weapon that Evelyn was a bit intimidated by just looking at it. She wasn't entirely sure that was the kind of message she wanted to send about herself, but before she could protest the man thrust the hilt into her hands. The sudden weight of it threw her off guard with a small, surprised squeak of dismay. Were it not for Cullen's quick reaction she would easily have been dragged to the floor by such a heavy blade.

His arm was around her waist, pulling her upright while he took the blade from both of her clasped hands. It was effortless. The ease with which he placed the blade back into the box made her feel weak.

"That sword is far too heavy for most to handle, Josephine. How do you expect Evelyn to make anything of it, least of all this "show" you're so keen on producing?"

His words made her feel a little better, and she would be dead if she hadn't noticed the effect his touch had on her. It was an innocent contact intended to help. So why did she feel like her skin was burning, then suddenly frigid with want of it?

Leliana watched the entire debacle with a knowing smile. "I have a suggestion."

Five pairs of eyes regarded her curiously before she moved to speak again. "Josephine, I think it would much better suit Lady Trevelyan's image if we were to procure or commission a diadem. The flourish you are so desiring could be easily achieved if Cassandra crowned her."

Evelyn, while seeming a little uncomfortable with the scrutiny, heartily agreed with Leliana. She would never in her wildest dreams be able to hold that sword up.

"That will work," Josephine relented with only a small frown before she wrote something else down. "Now Evelyn, off with you. We have very little time to prepare."

With that she was ushered out of the room by Fiora and her armful of red silk.

* * *

><p>"Was it that bad?" Cullen asked, standing over Evelyn as she lay on the cool floor of the ballroom.<p>

"I have never been assaulted by a pin so many times in my life." She cracked one eye open to look at him. "My parents never bothered with formal dresses. With five older brothers harassing me it was simply not cost effective."

He chuckled, moving to sit down beside her. His movements were sluggish - a mirror of earlier that morning. Worry lanced through her again, but she held her tongue. He was not receptive to her concern on this matter.

"I want to apologize to you for being unable to help you with your practice today."

He sounded bitter and disappointed in himself. Positive that he should feel nothing of the sort, Evelyn sat up so that they faced one another and fixed him with the kindest expression she could muster. It wasn't difficult. Lately every time she looked at him she felt herself relax a little. After everything she had been through, she was more than just grateful for his steadfast companionship and patience.

"It's no trouble. I don't feel particularly keen on draining my magic more than I already have today."

He frowned, searching her eyes. "You used magic?"

She shook her head. "I never cast any sort of spell, but the fitting stressed me out. I couldn't help my gut reaction to the pain."

"I'm not sure I understand."

She chewed her lower lip a moment, an action Cullen followed very closely, as she searched for a way to explain.

"Mages live in a state of constant tension. It would be a lot like flexing a muscle, but it never ends. At first it isn't so difficult, but as time passes control weakens and it's impossible to prevent little tremors in our "muscles" to stop some of the tension from releasing."

"Keeping yourself constantly in check."

She nodded with a smile. "Some mages don't practice this kind of restraint. I hate to say it, but they are usually the ones who turn to blood magic. Without feeling the constant weight of their true power to remind them, they lose sight of their potential to cause harm." She waved a hand, as if to wipe that thought aside. "Anyway, Since the Conclave I have not been able to relax and let go of my control for a while to regain a firm hold on my abilities again. That blighted needle was poking holes in more than just my skin."

Cullen had never in his life heard such an explanation, but he supposed it made sense. When conditioning, a soldier needed to practice forms, but rest was just as important to a healthy and whole body. It seemed mages weren't so different. He'd been saying that quite a bit lately.

"You haven't been able to relax?"

She looked sheepish and a little guilty. "I was afraid of showing myself and what I'm capable of to the Inquisition. You'll recall I was not necessarily met with cheerfulness."

He nodded, not apologizing for his earlier hesitancy. She would not want him to. The Commander always did what he thought best, and he was not wrong to be suspicious of her. Were their positions reversed, she might have felt the same way.

"You are accepted now. Why not try?"

She gave him a searching look. "I have done this before in front of Peter. Even he says it's unnerving."

"I'll be fine."

She hesitated, but ultimately gave way. Evelyn gathered her legs beneath her and breathed out slowly. As she felt the air leaving her lungs she gently, carefully, loosened her hold on her energy.

She was staring at a spot just beyond Cullen's shoulder when she saw him stiffen and immediately clamped back down to prevent his unease. "I'm sorry. It-"

"Don't stop," he spoke quietly. His amber gaze was unwavering when her eyes met his.

Maker, why did it feel so warm in here all of a sudden?

She tried again, and this time he did not so much as flinch.

Cullen felt the tendrils of her energy surrounding him within the closed space. At first his old panic had surfaced, instinct screaming at him to draw his sword. However, as he bid her to continue, he became more comfortable with it - with her. Yes, the sheer volume of her power caused the hair to stand on the nape of his neck, but he took a wicked kind of satisfaction in it. If someone had told him ten years ago that he would be sitting in a closed room alone with a mage as she exercised her control over her abilities, he would have thought them completely mad. Even Solona had never garnered as much trust.

Cullen had left Evelyn and the others shortly after dinner later that evening. He pulled at the collar of his overcoat, stripping it from his heated body and tossing it aside as he entered his office. Though the moment it was off he suddenly felt cold. A shiver raced down the column of his spine that turned his skin into gooseflesh.

Frantically he looked about the room, trying to find something - anything - that would satisfy this latest need. He found nothing. Paperwork wouldn't hold his interest. He would simply pull out his Lyrium kit and stare at as he'd done the night before. He hadn't slept at all, only barely resisting the inviting instruments of his doom.

Cullen shoved a hand through his hair, curls beginning to develop from the cold sweat that had broken out over his body. He couldn't stay here. Not alone. Not like this. He needed to _work_.

Taking only his sword and the clothes on his back, he hurriedly left his office and descended the stone stairway leading to the training ground. No one was about at this hour which afforded him the privacy he would need to get over this hill of obsession.

His boots met with the soft sand they'd laid down for sparring practice and onto it he placed his sword. Lifting his shirt over his head he threw that down too, then dropped to the ground. Cullen lifted his body back up with his arms, legs straight out behind him, then lowered. He repeated this until he'd set a pace for himself, the burning in his arms through the exercise a comfort rather than a nuisance.

He'd lost track of how many push-ups he'd done, and was only interrupted from his almost meditative state when someone _sat _on his back. The familiar scent of wood smoke gave her away.

Hawke.

"I thought I'd come keep you company," she spoke, biting into an apple she'd pilfered from the dinner table.

Cullen didn't answer, refocusing on his new task of carrying her weight as well, though his pace didn't falter.

"And while you look absolutely gorgeous out here in the middle of the night completely naked but for a pair of breeches, I can't help but be as concerned as Evelyn that something isn't quite right with you, Alter Boy."

"Quiet, Hawke. I don't want to talk about it," he managed through gritted teeth.

"Don't play stupid - at least not with me."

"Shut up."

Instead of deterring her, his anger seemed to only egg her on.

"Don't you think it's a bit rude to keep something as deadly as Lyrium withdrawal from your friend?"

The wind was knocked completely from her lungs when Cullen abruptly shifted to throw her from his back. Before she knew it he was hovering over her, sweaty, chest heaving with exertion, and deliciously pissed off. His outburst tipped her off instantly.

"You _like_ her."

"Of course I do," he panted. "She's a decent human being, which is more than what I can say for you. How did you know?"

"You wound me, Commander." Hawke smiled, bemused and seeming wholly unaffected by his weight resting on top of her. "I simply put two and two together."

Cullen rolled his eyes and shifted to stand. He didn't believe a word of that lame explanation. He would never give Hawke's cunning that little credit.

She sat up, taking Cullen's offered hand to pull her to a stand. "But in all seriousness, how are you holding up, big guy? Is it-?"

"It's painful and consumes my every thought." He gestured to the ground where he was just attempting to drive his body to its absolute limits. "Work helps push the cravings away."

"How long? Since you left Kirkwall?"

He nodded, picking up his shirt to wipe away the sweat that was beginning to cool on his body. "When I left the Order I swore I wouldn't take it again. It's like a leash the Chantry uses to enslave us, and I won't be part of it."

There was a lot more to it than that, Hawke knew, but she had other matters to discuss with him tonight, though pestering the poor man was always a treat.

"We finally agree on that, I see. Anyway, I came out here to tell you that I've made contact with a Warden friend of mine in Crestwood. Given Leliana's information, I think it's prudent to find out just what is going on with them because it's beginning to get scary."

Cullen's brow furrowed. "In what way?"

"I received a letter from Solona this morning. She and Alistair are hearing the Calling. You know as well as I do that they're too young for that. Stranger still is that my contact is also hearing it."

"You think the Wardens might all be hearing the Calling?"

"All three of my Warden pals at once? It seems like a logical conclusion to me."

Hawke's pretty eyes were sharp and calculating, and Cullen was brought back to a time when they'd made their unspoken truce along the cliffs of the Wounded Coast. Despite her sarcastic front, she was a remarkably shrewd woman.

"I would have to agree. When are you heading out?"

"After Evelyn's shindig. I don't want people to know where I'm going except for those that absolutely need to."

"Aww, I'm touched," Cullen teased, earning a wry smirk from the uncharacteristically solemn mage.

"Don't get smart, Commander."

"Good luck, Hawke. Maker watch over you."

She shrugged, rolling that blessing off of her back. The Chantry meant little to her.

"You know, if all you have to do to beat an addiction is run around shirtless and sweaty then please, do every self-respecting lady here a favor and keep at it." She pat his shoulder, grinning at the perturbed blush on his cheeks before sauntering away.

Maker, that woman was insufferable.

* * *

><p>Cullen had just walked into the main hall from his office when he saw the multitude of people bustling about. They were no doubt following Josephine's every whim preparing for the ceremony to instate Evelyn as Inquisitor. Amid the chaos he saw Bull who towered over Leliana and their frighteningly efficient ambassador. They were shifting about back and forth in front of some kind of absurdly bright drapery. Josephine stood back with a finger tapping her lower lip, revealing what she had been obscuring moments before.<p>

_Maker's breath._

Evelyn stood perfectly still as Dorian fussed with something in her hair, cursing in Tevinter at how lucky she was to have such a perfect shade of blonde. She wore a deep red robe, which Cullen would argue looked more like a dress, that hugged her torso before flaring out slightly at the curve of her hips. The neckline was wide, revealing a pair of delicately sloped shoulders.

If Josephine was trying to sell the woman she'd succeeded with Cullen. She looked...he couldn't coherently form the words.

When he drew closer to them Evelyn spotted him and smiled. "Well, Commander? Do I look as ridiculous as I feel? When Josephine said robe I'd no idea she really meant gown."

He stared at her, searching for something appropriate to say. "You look fine."

Hawke and Varric scowled at him, the former elbowing him in the ribs. "He means you look beautiful."

"Which everyone here with a pair of eyes would agree to," Varric added.

Cullen ignored them both, noticing Cassandra was fussing as much over Evelyn as Dorian was. The Seeker didn't strike him as the kind of woman who knew dresses, but she was straightening and fluffing like she was a seamstress. Perhaps she'd retained some of that noble habit from her earlier years.

"Cassandra, it's fine. I won't burst into flame if one tiny wrinkle shows."

"Nonsense. Josephine is organizing this so the Inquisition can make a point. I will take it as a personal insult if you don't go out there looking perfectly put together."

Evelyn sighed, but smiled at the Seeker. "Thank you for your help."

Cassandra waved a hand, a small smile of her own forming on her lips. "It's nothing. You've never had an experience like this before being sent to the Circle so young."

"It makes me a little nervous, to be honest."

"Nerves are fine. Just don't show them, understand?" She looked up at Evelyn who gave a firm nod.

"Understood."

"Aha! I've finally gotten the damned thing to stay." Dorian chuckled at his handiwork, quickly arranging Evelyn's hair over her shoulders. It fell in a cascade of white-blonde curls down her back.

"That's quite lovely Dorian." Cassandra spoke, seeming quite astonished at the complicated, if entirely unintentional, knot held in place by a simple silver clasp.

"My dear, I can do _anything_ I set my mind to."

Evelyn chuckled at the pair. Cassandra was correct in that she was unused to such pampering, but if she were completely honest it felt kind of nice.

"Are you ready Cassandra? Evelyn? We should go," Josephine shifted about, clearly eager to see them adhere to some kind of schedule.

Both women nodded, making their way toward the doors. Despite herself Evelyn felt a bundle of nerves settle in her throat and her hands began to shake.

Cullen took it upon himself to place a hand on her shoulder and lean in to speak quietly to her without being heard by the others. "Don't be so nervous. If anything happens, we're right here beside you."

She gave him a tremulous smile, but straightened her shoulders and tried to appear more confident. It was all she could do before she was outside, an incredible gathering of people in the yard below. Suddenly she felt like her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.

Evelyn liked being with and around people, but the acute and unwavering attention, the scrutiny, and the hope she saw in their faces forced her stomach into her throat. What could she, a Circle mage from the Free Marches, have possibly done to earn such a following?

Maker, the only reasons she didn't slip away were standing at her back. Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana all seemed rather pleased. Perhaps she should take note and try to emulate their easy manner.

It was much more difficult to do than she'd thought.

Andraste took pity on her when Cassandra had finished addressing the crowd, touting the mage's virtues and accomplishments and asking her to kneel.

Just as Josephine had instructed her, she dropped into a surprisingly graceful pose, lowering her lashes in anticipation. Could anyone else hear her rushing heartbeat?

"Evelyn Trevelyan, do you swear to uphold the dictates the Inquisition hands down, the morals we stand for, and our purpose to rout out evil and unify Thedas against our common enemy?"

"I do." Evelyn replied, her voice sounding much stronger than she thought it would.

"Do you swear to place others above yourself - to always help those in need?"

"Of course!" Her head shot up at the absurd question. At the sharp look from Josephine she blanched and quickly tried to save herself. "I - I mean, I do."

A small, good-natured chuckle rippled through the crowd. Cullen smiled. That mishap had endeared her to the people even more. It made her more relatable, that was certain.

"Then by the power invested in me by the late Divine Justinia, I name you Inquisitor!"

Cassandra gently placed the diadem upon her head and pulled Evelyn swiftly to her feet. The combined force of cheering and clapping was almost deafening to her ears, but she couldn't help the smile that quietly blossomed on her lips.

If all of these people believed in her, then she could at the very least try to believe in herself.

* * *

><p>Evelyn was in the courtyard speaking with Cassandra when the call came from the watchmen. The loud bellow of the horn startled her into the Seeker, who was beginning to straighten the mage on her feet out of habit.<p>

They had just returned from Val Royeaux with an elven rogue named Sera and the Knight Enchanter she had hoped she wouldn't have to deal with. Vivienne was, nicely put, a piece of work. The two had since been settled into their new lodgings, but if the trip back to Skyhold was any indication, Vivienne would be whining about her sore backside all day tomorrow.

And people said Evelyn was frail.

The two curious women moved to the steps leading down into the main yard, just able to see the source of all the commotion. A group of armored men sat on horseback, white banners flapping lazily in the cool breeze.

Evelyn would know them anywhere.

"Papa!"

Cassandra almost tripped she stopped so fast. "Papa?"

Evelyn nodded quickly, a smile brightening her face. "The gray horse dancing on the field of white." She pointed to the banner. "That's my house. Trevelyan."

The Seeker scrutinized the small company. Five men waited patiently in front of the heavy iron gate blocking access to Skyhold, all wearing _Templar_ armor with _Templar _shields protecting their backs. The foremost removed his helm, looking up to where the guards were posted. "Greetings Inquisition on behalf of House Trevelyan. We request admittance to see for ourselves that one of our own yet lives among your ranks."

Evelyn, if possible, grew even more thrilled. "That's Aaron!"

Cassandra felt decidedly bewildered in the face of all of this new information. "Aaron?"

"Eldest brother. You'll love him."

They felt the stone tremble beneath them as the gate began to lift. It seemed Cullen had judged them fit to enter.

Evelyn shot off like her Mabari, somehow managing to not kill herself on the stairs as she descended the into the courtyard. Upon seeing her, one of the men jumped off his horse to greet her. Aaron swept Evelyn up into his arms and twirled her about as the siblings embraced, a second Templar stepping off his horse to wait for their enthused greetings to end before he came forward and removed his helm. Evelyn hugged him as well, pulling back to mirror his bemused smile.

"My dear, I fear Peter was right about your penchant for getting into trouble." Her father's aged voice was like a balm to her soul. Wizened eyes regarded her from beneath a mop of dark hair beginning to gray at the temples. How she'd missed him.

"He is probably right - and a horrible snitch." She replied, hands resting on his vambraces. "You came to see if I was here? Peter should have said-"

"He did say, but we heard about what happened at Haven and feared the worst," Aaron spoke, resting the heel of his hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Thankfully," her father took over, "our friend Ian kept us updated on the Inquisition's progress to Skyhold by hawk. Be that as it may, I thought it best to come myself." His blue eyes, the very same shade as hers, looked past her to where Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana stood.

Belatedly, Evelyn remembered her manners. With a bit of a flustered blush she introduced the Inquisition's advisers to her father and eldest brother.

They recognized Cullen as another Templar immediately in much the same way she had. His posture, the way he turned just slightly away as if guarding himself with a shield, and his focused regard. All spoke of a life with the Order as clearly as it being written in a book if one knew what to look for.

Oddly enough, that seemed to relieve her father.

"Lord Trevelyan," Josephine interceded with her usual courtly grace, "Allow me to welcome you to Skyhold. Of course, you and your men may stay with us for as long as you wish. It is, after all, the least we can do."

"Thank you for the hospitality," Adair, Lord Trevelyan, inclined his head in acceptance.

Josephine motioned the party to follow her into the hall while Aaron began to nettle Evelyn for details about her journey thus far.

Later that evening as they sat around after dinner Cullen's mind was running full tilt down a steep mountainside, trying to process this new information. Knowing now where Evelyn came from - who she came from - caused many pieces of the puzzle surrounding her to suddenly fall into place.

Her ease with Templars despite the fact that she was a mage, her complete lack of any offensive ability, and her acceptance of Circle life - all those little questions teasing his brain had been answered.

It also ensured him that he was impossibly dull-witted.

Edward, the brother she had named previously, had been the Knight Commander of the Ostwick Circle of Magi for years - nearly as long as Cullen had been Knight Captain in Kirkwall. Belatedly, images of the name Edward Trevelyan penned on missives for Meredith cycled through his mind.

Doing a quick inventory from what Evelyn had said of her family, little as it was, left him knowing that every single member of her immediate family was a member of the Order. Only Evelyn's mother, Peter, and Evelyn herself were the exceptions.

Maker, everything made so much more sense.

"Commander?"

Cullen looked up at the sound of his title, meeting Aaron's sincere blue eyes. "Yes?"

"Before my father and I left Ostwick, my brother Edward told us about your history with the Order in Kirkwall. You were the Knight Commander there?"

Cullen nodded. "For a short time. As you know, after the incident with Meredith invoking the Right of Annulment, the mages were restless enough, and then they declared their independence. Seeker Cassandra offered me a position here, so I took what men would follow and joined the Inquisition. My intention was to secure a peace between the rebels." He rolled a shoulder. "Clearly that has not worked out."

"I don't think it ever will. Our family has been sheltering what mages still seek the protection of the Circle, but they are few and far between. I have only ever served in Ostwick, so I'm unsure of the conditions mages from other locations endured."

"Many were not pleasant," Cullen replied bitterly. He was partly the cause for such unfair treatment for a time. "Some were even abhorrent."

The other man sighed, looking like he felt a bit more relaxed. "I'm glad you have a level head, Commander. Many Templars we've encountered on the way here were rather...vocal with their dislike of magic."

Teague, Cullen mused.

"...which is another reason why we've come."

Adair's quiet and yet firm voice drifted through their conversation.

"We've encountered the red Templars before. They are not easy to defeat." Evelyn spoke honestly, remembering that she would rather not encounter another of those twisted things - much like she wished to avoid Vivienne. "But what do they have to do with your coming here?"

"It is highly likely that Michael has thrown in with them." Evelyn blanched at her father's reply. "I've sent a few men out to track him, and they managed to get as far as the Emprise. Unfortunately those same scouts returned to tell me of the number of Templars hiding out there were equivalent to a legion. It would be no easy task for us to find Michael and bring him back alone, which is why I am humbly asking the Inquisition for its aid in retrieving him."

"Do you think that location could be their base?" Cullen asked, drawing a thumb across the line of his jaw in thought.

"I think it is very likely that some activity of importance is taking place there."

Evelyn and Cullen turned to each other, seeming to understand without speaking what both of their answers would be.

"We so happen to have work to do in the Emprise, but will need to detour in the Emerald Graves," Evelyn reasoned. "There's a man there needing to speak to me about refugees and more red Templar sightings."

"If you and your men would go ahead and secure a camp, I can send Inquisition soldiers with you to the Emprise while we take care of that business in the Graves." Cullen offered. "Our delay would be no more than a day. A simple scouting mission if I can help it."

Adair watched the two closely for a moment before nodding in agreement. "That is more help than I expected. I thank you, Cullen."

The Commander inclined his head, saying nothing against the use of his given name. The man was old enough to be _his_ father. "Is another day and night of rest sufficient?"

"That should be more than enough," Aaron nodded. "And I can sleep on a _real_ bed for the first time in weeks."

Evelyn chuckled. "Still a big baby about your beauty sleep hmm, brother?"

"No less than you, sister."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hang on to your butts, boys and girls! I'm back and with the chapter I believe you ALL have been waiting so very patiently for (at least I've been anxious to post it). A big thank you to all my followers, favers, and reviewers. Seriously, when I get down or stuck on this story all I have to do is open up my reviews and read them to give me the inspiration I need to have at it again. Love ya! **

**By the by, I now have an AO3 account thanks to Loverofallfiction. Same username**

**Warnings: Descriptive scenes of physical abuse - brief, but it's there.**

**Song: We're All We Need by Above and Beyond (I've also added some new songs to the playlist on my profile. Check it out if you're interested.)**

**Enjoy everyone!**

* * *

><p>The morning they left Skyhold was warm despite the shadow cast by the battlements over their party. Cullen enjoyed the quiet stillness of the courtyard this hour as he led both his and Evelyn's mounts out of the stables.<p>

Adair Trevelyan, looking very much a regal Lord even inside of his Templar armor, commanded the attention of everyone present despite the fact that he was doing nothing but standing there. He spoke to Evelyn, to whom the rest of the family referred to as Evie, saying something about making sure to to not use her magic unless absolutely necessary.

Cullen suppressed a smile at that. Apparently Lord Trevelyan had no idea of what his daughter had been up to in his absence. Would he have been surprised or horrified? Cullen didn't know enough about him to say for sure. What he did know was that the man was besotted with his daughter and youngest child. It was clear to anyone who watched them embrace before the Trevelyan group cantered out of Skyhold that the he did not care one whit if his daughter had been born a mage.

All Templars should be so accepting, he thought to himself, watching Evelyn kneel down in front of her Mabari. Ruffling the hair on the scruff of his neck she said, "Alright, Ferelden. You keep Cole out of trouble and be sure to greet Peter if he comes back before we do."

The dog barked as if understanding a word of what she'd just said.

The Commander cast his eyes to the heavens before leading the horses up to where Evelyn stood. "You named the beast Ferelden?"

She straightened up from the ground with a cheeky smile. "I think it's rather fitting, don't you?"

"Perhaps too fitting," he grumbled.

"I thought that being from Ferelden, you would like Mabari."

"I never grew up around them," Cullen admitted, eying the beast that seemed to be listening to their conversation. "The first time I ever saw one was when I left Honnleath to begin my Templar training."

"Strange. People in the Free Marches seem to think every Ferelden they meet is a...what's the term? Dog Lord?"

He snorted, a derisive laugh leaving him. "Believe me, I know. It's because Mabari are an important part of Fereldish history. The war dogs are one of the only reasons we were able to beat back the Orlesians when they tried to invade."

Ferelden barked, wiggling his stub of a tail excitedly.

"Don't take credit, dog. Those were your ancestors and they're long gone." Cullen admonished. Maker, he was talking to it like it was a person again.

They needed to leave. Now.

Days later the group had safely arrived at the edge of the ancient forest referred to as the Emerald Graves. Evelyn, being born and raised a Free Marcher from a city along the coast and a Circle mage, had never seen trees so large. Cullen had to save her several times from falling off of her horse in her wonder.

"Why do they call it the Emerald Graves?" She asked curiously. Her mount strode easily between Cullen and Cassandra's.

The Seeker answered first. "The elves named it so. This was a burial ground held sacred to them before the second Exalted March on the Dales." They passed by a crumbling statue of a wolf. "As you can see, their monuments have fallen into disrepair since the occupation."

"Why would the Chantry lead a crusade against the elves?"

"Because they assumed them heathens and heretics. The groups didn't get on well before then, regardless. A war was imminent," Cullen replied.

"That's a shame. So much history has been lost - just here alone. Where is this Fairbanks man we are to meet?"

"He should be just up the road."

They passed beneath a low-hanging branch, a thousand broad leaves obscuring their view. When they'd reached the other side of the vegetation the location Fairbanks had referred to became immediately visible. They also had at least ten people with bows trained at their heads.

Cullen moved his horse forward, placing himself directly between Evelyn and the unknown men.

"We are with the Inquisition. Lower your weapons," he demanded, hand resting on the grip of his sword.

"Inquisition?" One asked, seeming dubious.

"It's about bloody time!"

Their meeting with Fairbanks was quick and to the point, but it was evident that their role here would be more than a simple scouting mission. In order to persuade the man and his charges to supply the Inquisition with information on enemy movements in the area, they would have to clear out several groups of rebels that had defected from the Imperial army. Not exactly a small task.

Upon Evelyn's request they had traveled here with a very large contingent of soldiers, and suddenly Cullen found himself thankful for her foresight. While he suspected a big part of her decision was to have enough men available to recapture her brother in the Emprise, it would still work to their advantage now.

Sending Ian off with half of their number to capture a manor nearby and the rest of the force to make camp, Cullen, Cassandra, Evelyn and Dorian all began to work their way toward an abandoned mine rumored to be a hideout for the Freemen of the Dales, as Fairbanks had referred to the deserters. They'd only made it to a crossroads before Evelyn stopped her horse short, eyes roaming over the seemingly empty wilderness to her left.

Dorian also came to a stop, mustache twitching as he caught his lip between his teeth in a nervous movement.

"The wood is far too quiet here," Evelyn murmured, sensing a gaping hole in the Veil nearby.

Cullen had brought his horse around to meet them, Cassandra in tow. "What's wrong?"

"Do you sense it?" Dorian asked the ex Templar.

Without Lyrium Cullen's abilities were deteriorating. He could no longer call forth a holy smite, dispel, or sense demons as Dorian and Evelyn could. Only at the excessive use of a mage or demon's power could he perceive anything magically related, and he suspected that was only because he had done it for so long in the Order.

"No. What is it?"

"Definitely a demon," Evelyn replied, urging her horse forward along the path leading away from the mine that ran parallel to a small creek. Unwilling to simply let her go off on her own, the others followed, aware as they ventured deeper into this section of the wood that something did not seem to feel quite right.

They gone perhaps half a mile when she veered off the side of the path, disappearing down the bank of the creek. Obviously worried, the others followed, coming up short when they saw the Inquisitor kneeling in the water beside the corpse of a dead woman. Cullen dismounted first.

"She's been killed, but it wasn't by any Freeman." Evelyn's fingers gently ran over the limbs of the body as she searched for any telling damage. It was dressed in a fine gown, one of her feet missing a silken green slipper. She couldn't have been more than twenty.

Evelyn looked up, searching the highland above her for a moment and focusing on one spot in particular before turning to Cullen. "I believe this is the demon's work. I want to look for it."

Cullen's instinct replied with an immediate and emphatic _no_, but just looking at her he was able to see that refusing wouldn't necessarily stop her from pursuing this matter. "Why?"

"The Veil is extremely damaged here, and not because this place is a graveyard. This woman is not the first to die by this creature, I'm certain. If we do not stop it, it will kill again and I fear when it does it will only grow stronger. We need to put a stop to this."

He grudgingly accepted that yes, they did need to put an end to the volatile machinations of the demon. "Do you think you can find it from here?"

She nodded. "Absolutely. I just need to follow the locus of power. It isn't far."

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Evelyn?" Cassandra asked, concern creasing the skin at the corners of her eyes.

"A good idea? No. It's just the right thing to do."

"Whatever it is," Dorian spoke firmly, watching the same spot Evelyn had been moments before, "it was summoned."

Nearly an hour's time had passed when they finally stopped in front of an old rusted gate. The name above the iron bars read "d'Onterre". It was evident this place had been vacant for some time from the way the vines of ivy sprawled haphazardly over the white-washed walls, thick tangles of hedges growing unchecked and uncut. One side of the gate had swung open and detached from one of its hinges. The whole facade was eerie and reminded Cullen of an overlarge tomb.

Evelyn and Dorian were the first through the bars, apparently unaffected by the ghostly feel of the place - or if they were, they were simply better at hiding it. He was reminded again that demons were not strange beings to a mage. It was something they likely encountered daily. Realistically, they had more experience with them than Templars did.

As the group walked through the grounds leading to the front door, Dorian commented that the deafening silence they all heard was one of the hallmarks of a tear in the Veil.

"Animals, anything with a sense of self-preservation, high-tail it out of an area directly exposed to Fade influence. It's unnatural to them, and therefore a threat. Even the birds have gone," he observed before Evelyn pushed open the front doors.

A thick, choking miasma of death swept out to greet them, knocking the very breath from their lungs.

"_Shit!_"

It occurred to Cullen that was the first time he'd ever heard Evelyn swear. She brought the high collar of her overcoat up to her nose and disappeared inside. He followed quickly behind, Dorian and Cassandra close on his heels.

They were met with a murky gloom only broken by the light shining through the open front door. It very quickly slammed shut behind them, drowning them in blackness until both Dorian and Evelyn summoned magelight. It did little to pierce the oppressive darkness.

"I do not like this," Cassandra said slowly, quietly, as if the walls had ears.

"This way," Evelyn called from across the foyer, Cullen remaining close at her side.

He was struck by how sure of herself she was in such a tense situation. It was as if she'd become a person he'd never seen before. Belatedly, he realized that this was Senior Enchanter Trevelyan, not Evelyn Trevelyan.

The next room smelled worse than the last, and only when Evelyn lifted the light in her hand higher did they see why. Countless bodies littered the space, pressed up against walls, strewn about the floor, and all in various states of decay. Corpses ranged from looking like withered skeletons to perhaps only week-old kills. Whatever was here had been working at its craft for a very long time.

Cullen knelt down beside one of the fresher bodies, his nose only wrinkling at the cloyingly sweet smell of blood and decay. "The armor this man is wearing matches the description of those Freemen Fairbanks gave us. Guess some were unlucky enough to get stuck in here."

The shuffling of feet echoed down the hall to reach them as they were observing the dead.

"Lights out!" Evelyn whispered, and both she and Dorian extinguished their magelight to plunge the group into darkness.

The shuffling got louder, now accompanied with a labored wheezing noise that reminded Evelyn of a death rattle. She considered for a moment summoning her barrier just in case, but she wasn't entirely sure if whatever was in the room with them would have sensed it and thereby pinpointed their location. It was a risk she was unwilling to take despite her unease. Thankfully, she didn't have to worry.

Cullen's hand found hers easily before he tugged her silently down into a crouch beside him. He shifted his body directly behind hers, his armored thighs caging her about the waist. The steel of his shield protected them bodily from the front. His body was tense, prepared to jump to their defense should the unknown creature find them.

The sound of dry, bare feet scratched against the marble floor of the room, slowing as it neared them. However it was breathing, it seemed to be having difficulty. Evelyn could almost hear the flapping of skin and sinew against the column of its neck.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the proximity of the sound. It drew closer still, and she could have sworn she felt the creature's putrid breath fanning the hair against her face before it moved on.

The group waited until they could no longer hear the ambling sound of its hobbled gait before moving, though it seemed Cullen was reluctant to remove his shield from in front of Evelyn. His Templar instincts were in overdrive.

"Undead," Dorian observed, summoning his magelight once more.

"And where there's one, there are always more," Evelyn replied.

"You are sure this is a demon and not a pack of blood mages?" Cassandra wondered, wanting to ensure that she knew what they were getting into.

Cullen shook his head. "Blood mages would let all of these bodies go to waste. I'd bet every Sovereign in the Inquisition treasury that we are dealing with a Horror."

Evelyn seemed to consider that a moment before nodding in agreement. "The use of undead is compelling." She frowned. "But something besides the demon is here. Something living like us."

"If anyone in this house of horrors is still alive, color me impressed," Dorian snorted, moving forward with Evelyn when she made to enter the next room.

"I don't think it's by choice," She murmured, now standing in the lower level of a well-lit library. The skylight above revealed the noon-day sun shining brightly overhead. It was a stark contrast to the decrepit state of the manor they were in.

There was a faint groan of wood from behind them. Turning, Evelyn watched Cullen close the doors and slip a blade from one of the fallen soldiers through the handles.

He looked up, eyes focused and calculating. "That way it can't follow."

"And we can't get out," Dorian criticized. "At least not easily - say, when we are running for our lives. Seems almost inevitable at this point."

The Commander didn't even honor the remark with a response, his senses abuzz with the magic from his companions and the demonic taint in the air.

"These bodies are dressed in finery. They must be fro-wooah!" Evelyn swayed on her feet, catching herself against Cassandra.

The concern on the Seeker's face matched Cullen's. Dorian simply appeared curious.

Evelyn shook her head, blinking her eyes several times before pressing the heel of her hand against one of her eyes. "That was strange."

"What?" Cassandra prompted.

"I just...saw a group of people dancing and I felt...angry."

Cullen tensed. "Is it trying to possess you?"

She shook her head again. "No. I think something here is trying to talk to me, but I can't exactly go into the Fade for a chat right now. I suppose it could be the demon."

He didn't look convinced, his eyes watching her carefully a moment. Seeming to find her still human, much to her amusement, he nodded toward the large staircase. It led to the upper floor of the library which was much better lit than the bottom. The better to see any coming threats, he'd reasoned.

The others couldn't argue with that, preferring to not become target practice for an undead. Evelyn paused near a body at the top of the staircase while the others moved a short distance ahead. This one looked very old indeed. Expensive tailoring hung loosely on the husk of a man, poorly masking a strange shape beneath the waistband of his breeches. She hunkered down, gently lifting the thing from the corpse. It revealed itself to be a small personal tome; a journal.

Her eyes widened as they passed over one of the pages near the end of the book.

"Evelyn," Cullen's voice called from across the library, rousing her out of her reverie. Quickly she stood, hurrying toward the group.

"That man was a mage. He was called here to help the d'Onterre's daughter when she had begun to show her magic."

She flipped to the next page, scanning the words quickly. "He was not...Maker…"

Cullen cocked his head, regarding her and the journal curiously. "What is it?"

She read a bit further on before she replied. "The d'Onterre's didn't hire him to help teach their daughter. They wanted him to somehow remove the magic from her without making her Tranquil."

"Can such a thing be done?" Cassandra asked, a frown drawing a line between her brows.

"No," Dorian spoke firmly, holding up a sheaf of loose parchment for Evelyn.

She only read the first few sentences before she dropped the book like it was on fire. "What on Thedas...what were they thinking?" Her voice rose in panic, straining with a measure of disgust.

The d'Onterre's wanted to purge the magic from their only child alright, and they seemed to want to do it at any cost. When tranquility wasn't an option, many resorted to other more grisly means to achieve a separation. It appeared that the owner of the journal had performed several procedures on the young mage. One of which, outlined on the parchment she had been given, involved a thin wire being inserted into the ear far enough that it would come out the other side. Theoretically, this procedure was intended to spear the center of the brain, a place which many quack physicians thought to be the center or source of magical abilities. Evelyn had never heard of such an asinine procedure ever being a success. The notion that someone - another mage, no less - would subject a child to that torture made her physically ill.

Cullen watched Evelyn's face transform from a look of horror, to disgust, and finally an anger so absolute he had trouble believing it was her own. He looked to Dorian for explanation.

"This young mage's parents handed her over to a butcher," he growled, as angry as Evelyn. "Despite having no notion of what he was doing, he decided to open up her head and have a poke around _inside._ I imagine it was such a surprise to him when _that_ didn't go very well."

Evelyn threw the papers aside with the journal, a hand covering her mouth as she tried to swallow the bile that had risen in her throat. "He removed her control, and let the demon inside. _Dimwitted fool_."

"Then this happened?" Cullen surmised, looking about the room. "No one ever listens."

"I daresay the poor girl would have received more mercy from the Templars than her own family!" Dorian spat.

"We have to find her. She has to be the one still here," Evelyn sighed, angrily rubbing her arms in an effort to purge the chill that had settled into her very bones.

"It's surprising she made it after he scrambled her brains," Dorian replied, but agreed with her.

"Why not just defeat the demon and be done with it?" Cassandra reasoned, not expecting the venom with which Evelyn would reply.

"Because the longer she lingers here the worse things will become. For now we are dealing with one demon puppeting an undead, but what happens when more find her and want to come through to our world? This tear in the Veil would be a far worse place than a Fade rift, I can tell you that. That's not even mentioning that if her body is still alive here, her consciousness is stuck somewhere in the Fade. She would be stuck in a never-ending act of dying."

"We should branch out," Dorian suggested. "Cassandra and I will take the East wing. You and Cullen search the West." He pointed down at the deceptively cheery-looking courtyard through a nearby window. "Let's meet down there in one hour."

Cullen nodded. "A fair plan. Let's go."

Evelyn was already starting away, keen on finding the girl and ending this nightmare. What must it be like to be hated for what you are by your own parents and subjected to the whims of a madman? She couldn't stomach the thought.

Cullen caught up to her, catching her around the elbow and pulling her to a stop.

"Slow down. I know you're upset, but running off heedless of your surroundings may make matters worse. We already know there are undead here, but we aren't certain of how many."

She stiffened, turning to protest but it died on her lips when she viewed his expression. His face mirrored her concern and her anger, but he was much more calm than she could ever hope to be in a situation like this. She supposed that was a result of his training. Templars were able to emotionally remove themselves from their charges should the need arise - at least most of them.

"I understand. I just want to find her."

"I know." This time when they began to move forward they were doing so together.

Cullen and Evelyn sneaked almost soundlessly through the darker rooms of the manor, unwilling to alert any undead to their presence. It was only when they emerged into the narrow maze-like halls of the servant's quarters that avoiding them became nearly impossible.

Cullen shifted himself in front of Evelyn, speaking to her in a hushed voice though he didn't dare take his eyes off of the mass of putrid ambling bodies ahead of them. "We can go back or…"

Evelyn looked at him sharply. "Going back isn't an option, Cullen. There's no other way to get to this part of the manor without going all the way back to the foyer."

"Then we make a run for it?" He dared a glance back at her to read the determined glint in her eyes.

She studied the corridor as well as she could, the lack of light making it nearly impossible to discern the doors at the far end of the path. "Straight ahead? We can bar the way behind us." Her intense blue eyes swept over the shambling undead obstacles again. "If we go shield to shield we could easily push them out of the way. They aren't exactly sturdy."

Cullen smirked. "A glancing blow in this filthy place could be deadly."

"I've got it covered. My shield is a bit more versatile than yours, you'll remember."

"Oh, I remember. I still have a bruised backside from when you proved that point."

"So we're agreed?"

"Let's do it." He stepped out from in front of her and allowed her to stand at his shoulder. At once his raised his shield and she summoned hers, drawing the attention of nearly twenty shriveled, rotting corpses.

For not having all of their physical parts in perfect working order the things were surprisingly quick. Cullen came up against the bulk of the group first, pushing back with relative ease while Evelyn kept their flanks guarded. One creature made to slip around behind them, but thanks to Cullen and Hawk's training she spotted it, focused, and sent the thing sprawling to the opposite end of the hall.

The others suddenly began to follow suit when the warrior and mage managed to get through the far door. Cullen quickly shut it behind them while Evelyn kept it closed with the force of her magic. She could feel the undead pressing against it, and the old fragile wood shuddered with their combined weight.

Cullen hurried off, presumably to find something with which to brace the door.

Evelyn heard his movements come to a stop behind her as she kept her eyes trained on the weakened portal.

"Cullen?"

The wood sagged. Evelyn took a step back. It was going to break.

She looked over her shoulder, seeing him standing stock-still in the middle of the large high-ceilinged room. His shield hung loose at his side, sword tip pointed at the floor.

"Cullen!" She called louder.

The door groaned, gaps in the slats now revealing hollow eyes and spindly, grasping fingers.

Still the Commander didn't move.

Hoping her shield would hold when the door wouldn't, Evelyn turned and hurried to Cullen's side. His eyes were unfocused, staring across the room at nothing and no one.

Tentatively, she reached out to touch his arm, but the contact did nothing to rouse him from whatever held him.

Could the demon have found them so easily? Could it have affected Cullen so easily? He was a Templar - an ex Knight Commander. Shouldn't he have the safeguards in place to prevent such influence?

"Cullen!" She yelled again. Thinking of nothing else to do, she lashed out at him, kicking his armored shin with her booted foot. She only succeeded in stubbing her toes.

Still nothing.

The door finally gave way, a force of undead spilling into the room so far as Evelyn's barrier would allow. She could not keep it up forever.

Scrubbing her face, she wracked her brain for a way to break him of this trance. It had to be something shocking; something that would pull his senses back to the here and now from...wherever he was.

Evelyn reached up, yanking out one of the fine hairs at the back of his neck. He twitched, but that wasn't what she needed.

"Something he would freak out over," She breathed. "No papers to mess up. No Mabari to irritate him. Maker, what do I do?"

Feeling herself sinking into a state of hopelessness as she tried to drown out the groans of the undead inside the room, a thought came upon her that, at any other time, she would have readily dismissed. Examining it no further, she walked up to him in two strides, lifted herself onto her toes, and pressed her lips to his.

She didn't anticipate the sudden and violent reaction he would have when he pulled her body up against his, growling something broken and unintelligible in her ear. Nor did she expect the delighted little shiver that raced down her spine at such a sound. The reaction left her control over her magic stuttering, and it was by some miracle that she managed to shake herself and slip from his grasp long enough to erect the barrier around them once again.

Now the undead were close enough to reach out and grab her should her spell fail again.

Cullen shook his head, trying to beat back the onslaught of images and emotions that had overwhelmed him upon setting foot inside the room. It was as if this had all been a dream, and he found himself transported back to the holding cell Uldred had crafted for him during the uprising.

He had not expected to awaken so suddenly to the torrent of magic assaulting his senses, nor the feel of Evelyn's lips pressed against his own. It left him a little dazed, thinking that the sensation was exactly as he'd imagined it.

Had he finally gone completely mad?

"Cullen, are you with me?"

He looked up, finding the source of the voice. Evelyn looked tired, but was holding the horde of undead at bay with her barrier. Looking around again, he'd realized the scenery had changed from what he'd last remembered. Were they not just in the corridor?

Cullen would think on this later, he decided. Squaring his shoulders he inclined his head to Evelyn. "I'm with you."

"Thank the Maker. I thought I'd lost you there."

He winced, but quickly shoved the feelings of guilt aside in order to better assess their situation. "Evelyn, if you can get the majority away from us, I think I'll be able to get them off of our backs."

"You feel up to it?"

She seemed dubious after the scare he'd just given her, and he couldn't say he blamed her. The truth of the matter was, however, that they needed to get rid of all of these undead. How were they supposed to investigate this wing of the manor in peace otherwise?

"Come on. Just like we practiced."

It was only a moment before she thrust her barrier outward around them, flinging the corpses to the perimeter of the room. Some were pushed so forcefully that they no longer were able to stand which suited Cullen just fine. It made his job much easier.

Evelyn retreated a few steps, placing her back to a wall so she could better survey the room. It was a large common area, the marble floor having lost its sheen from the copious amount of dried blood that was splashed haphazardly atop it. The woodwork on the walls suffered the same treatment, and she absently wondered if it was here that the demon did most of its dirty work. It'd certainly almost ensnared Cullen.

The man in question was making short work of the undead that'd managed to right themselves after her blast. He made it look all too easy. Many men, even those built like Bull, would have a difficult time wielding a blade like Cullen did. Each cut was intended to kill - not maim, not injure - kill. Gone was the flashy swordplay she'd grown accustomed to in Ostwick where Templars were trained to bring mages in alive if at all possible. Cullen's moves were practical and efficient, intended to conserve energy while facing a resistant and deadly enemy.

Magehunter.

The description popped into her mind and seemed to linger as she watched him fight. She was not afraid. It was Cullen. Still, the notion that he had been specifically trained to hunt and kill those of her kind caused her to look at what she knew of his past a little differently.

Suddenly the idea that he would ever trust her as he had come to, at least in part, seemed absolutely ridiculous. Impossible, even.

The last of the bodies fell to Cullen's sword, the final blow having carved the thing nearly in two. Despite the ease with which he dispatched the group, he had to stand a moment to catch his breath.

"You're getting a bit scary with how well you do that," he commented to her, gesturing toward the ring of broken bodies surrounding them.

"Scary?" she asked, offering him a small smile as she walked over to examine something on one of the bodies.

"Well, if it was Hawke then perhaps I would call it scary. Since it's you…" He paused, biting down what he had intended to say. "You know what you're doing," he finished lamely, but if Evelyn had noticed she made no mention of it as she reached out to pick up something that'd fallen on the floor.

The large iron key seemed harmless enough, but as her fingertips brushed the surface of the cool metal there was a crack of static. With a pained gasp she snatched her hand away.

"What was that?"

"Bad energy. Lots of it," she explained, clutching the still stinging hand to her chest. "We need it, though. If the demon handled this key then it must be important."

"Do demons need keys?"

"No, but people do."

Ah, the girl, Cullen thought. "Do you really think you can save her?"

"I don't know, but I have to try. I can't leave her lingering like this."

Evelyn tore off a piece of fabric from her coat and laid it over her palm before once again attempting to pick up the key. This time there was no sound and no painful shock, much to her relief. Carefully, she dropped the bit of metal into one of her coat pockets.

The two took one last look around the room before moving on, now curious about where the strange energized key lead.

"Do all people tend to linger if they have been possessed by a demon?" Cullen asked, finding himself curious. Templars never bothered with learning the types and intricacies of possession. The general rule of thumb was that if it walked like a demon, talked like a demon, or looked like a demon, you were to kill it as quick as humanly possible.

"It depends on the demon, really. Those that make Horrors or Revenants, which I believe we are encountering in this case, tend to feed off of their hosts magical ability and life force. More powerful demons like Rage and Pride only need a human body as a vessel in which to dwell, and sometimes they even forego that," Evelyn explained as they mounted a set of stairs to the upper floor of the room in which they'd just left. Perhaps there was something up here that would tell them more about this key.

"The Arcane Horror being the possessed corpse of a mage, correct?"

She nodded. "And the Revenant being the possessed corpse of a Templar. That seems to be a favorite. Maybe it has something to do with the irony. Most demons have a very strange sense of humor."

"You've spoken to them?"

Evelyn glanced over at him, wondering only a moment if she should say anything. As personal a subject as this was for her, she felt that his desire to know more was based on simple curiosity.

"Always. My connection to the Fade is such that I come into contact with spirits and demons quite often."

"While you sleep?" Cullen felt himself fight back a tide of protectiveness over her. She could handle herself. She'd been doing it all her life without his help.

"And while I'm awake, but yes, mostly when I sleep."

"I do not envy you that skill."

She flashed a smile. "Most don't."

Evelyn stopped just in front of another door, frowning at it a moment before turning the handle and stepping through. They found themselves on a small balcony perhaps two-dozen feet above the once well-manicured garden.

"Strange."

"Hm?" Cullen hummed, casting a watchful eye about their surroundings.

"I thought-" She shook her head. "I could have sworn I felt something sinister through that door, but now we are here and I feel nothing."

"This entire place feels sinister, Evelyn."

"You're just not sensitive enough."

She heard the laugh rumble in his chest behind her at her small barb.

"You two! Day dreamers!"

The pair looked up as one, spying Dorian leaning over the railing of a balcony above them with his characteristic smirk.

"Cassandra and I have been following a paper-trail of clues to this door up here. It's locked. Did you find anything in your wing?"

Evelyn's heart started to hammer as adrenaline bled into her body. "I did! Hold on a moment! We'll find a way up!"

Just a few minutes later Evelyn stood in front of a pair of locked doors with the key in her protected hand.

"Maker, I don't think I've ever seen this much negative energy in one place."

"You can see it?" Cassandra asked, squinting her eyes a little in an effort to perceive what Evelyn and Dorian were looking at.

"Cassandra, darling, think of the biggest blackest cloud you've ever seen and now imagine what it would look like if you tried to shove it underneath a door. That's basically what it looks like," Dorian offered as Evelyn stepped forward, slipping the key into the hole. She turned it without hesitation, though everyone in their party tensed in anticipation of what they would find.

The lock released with an audible click seconds before the doors burst outward in an explosion of violent magic. Evelyn blocked the blast expertly with her barrier, but Cullen could still feel the acrid burn of the magic across his senses. It left a painful buzzing at the base of his skull and a foul taste in the back of his throat. It felt very similar to blood magic.

Though neither he or Cassandra could see the whirling mass of black negativity as their mage counterparts could, they did clearly notice the Arcane Horror that had appeared before Dorian. It lashed out at the Tevinter with boney fingers that it wielded like claws, screeching its displeasure when he shot it backward with a ball of fire.

It recovered from the use of magic quickly, spells largely ineffective against its kind, but Cullen and Cassandra were already closing in. The Seeker dispelled the area when it tried to invoke storm magic, and in its subsequent confusion Cullen thrust his blade up through the things' skull. A dark, globulous substance oozed from the wounds, hissing and smoking on the Commander's blade. He quickly dislodged the sword, flinging the acid-like blood away from his gloved hand and at his feet where it bubbled and etched pock-marks into the stone.

"Duck!"

Cullen and Cassandra barely had time to comply before Dorian launched a spear of ice at the Horror's head where it quite cleanly pinned the creature to the wall. Cullen's blade came down and severed the spine while Cassandra's ran through its belly.

"I think that's about as dead as the undead can get!" Dorian preened, inspecting his nails while looking very proud of himself.

It took a moment for Cassandra and Cullen to notice Evelyn was missing.

* * *

><p>"It's okay. You're going to be okay," Evelyn breathed, trying to smooth the girl's matted hair over the thick bandage wound about her head. It was encrusted with blood and bile as was the poor thing's once fine nightgown. She was so small and so skinny that when Evelyn had first come into the room, she had mistaken her for one of the undead.<p>

She certainly looked it.

Her grayish skin was stretched taut over her bony limbs. Little, if any, muscle remained on the tiny frame of the girl who had done nothing to deserve this but be born with magical talent. One glassy eye stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, the other was covered by the bandage concealing what must have been the wound from the procedures detailed on the parchment she and Dorian had found.

Cradling the girl against her, Evelyn began to rock her back and forth as she recited the Chant of Light. She could not leave her here like this. To do so would condemn her to a slow and lingering death and, perhaps, another possession. She could not - would not - allow that to happen.

"...I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade, for there is no darkness, nor

death either, in the Maker's Light…" Her words whispered across the child's forehead. "...and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

She felt more than she'd heard Dorian enter the room, and when he knelt down beside her he spoke with a tone of voice that emphasized how seriously he was taking this. The normally frivolous man could be firm when he so wished.

"There isn't anything else we can do for her, Evie, but give her a merciful death."

She nodded, fingers smoothing back the soft brown curls again. "I know. I had hoped...but you're right."

His mouth was set in a grim line as he pulled a dagger from the sheath at his belt.

When they had emerged from the room no one spoke, and it was with a heavy, solemn silence that the group wound their way through the manor once more and out into the wilds of the Emerald Graves.

Cullen dared not utter a word, clueless as what to say to either mage. "I'm sorry" wasn't good enough, and it never would be. There was a time when he might have viewed the child's death as another vicious consequence of having the misfortune of being born a mage. Now, however, he only knew that it was a great loss for one so young to have her life ended so early. That the entire matter seemed to have been preventable only rubbed salt in the wound. The girl should have been protected, and it was the Templar Order that should have been present to do so. It was part of the reason for their founding, after all, and he felt shame that he neglected that truth once.

Evelyn's silence endured even when they'd regrouped with the rest of the Inquisition's forces. Thankfully their detour hadn't made much of a difference as all of the tasks Fairbanks needed finished were handled expertly by Varric, Ian, Bull, and the rest of the men they'd parted with earlier that day.

"We were beginning to wonder if you'd been eaten by a troll, Curly. I told Tiny here that maybe we should take a look around for one choking on your armor."

Cullen snorted at the colorful imagery the dwarf's words conjured up.

"Did you see any?" Bull asked, seeming all too eager to encounter one of the foul-smelling giants.

"Thankfully no," the Commander replied, keeping pace with the conversation despite what felt like a hundred soldiers clamoring to ask him even the simplest questions. It was after a new recruit asked him where the heated water was that Cullen decided he'd had enough. He needed to remove himself before he wrapped his fingers around someone's throat and choked the life out of them.

Such poor behavior wasn't suited to the Commander of the Inquisition - no matter how the spoiled young man deserved it.

He had wandered as far as the edge of camp before spying the little shrine just down the hill, light enough shining from within to appear welcoming. While his sense of duty frowned at such a distance from his charges, it also reasoned that spending a bit of time alone might help sort through all he'd experienced today.

A day with the Inquisition was never normal or average in his experience, but there were those that were particularly more trying than others. Today had easily been one of them.

With a word to Ian to let him know where he was going, and leaving instructions with him to make contact with Rylen back at Skyhold, Cullen left for the shrine. The distance was small, trekked in only a scant few minutes down the steep hill, and when he arrived the warmth of a large fire burning in the brazier cut through the damp chill in the air.

The warm summer days were finally withdrawing from the southern continent, allowing the chill of autumn nights to prevail amid the dampness of the forest. It was peaceful here, and Cullen wondered if that sense of tranquility had anything to do with the elven magic that had once spread throughout this region.

Alone and out of sight of curious eyes, he allowed himself to sink down to the floor with his back against a wall. Despite his wish to never again think upon that house of horrors or the atrocities committed within, he found his mind returning to it again and again. The girl's death seemed inevitable and, while saddening, was not the reason for his fixation on the subject. Evelyn was, Maker help him.

Cullen had thought he knew her well after all this time. Months had passed in her presence. He had thought all of his questions had been answered, but she had proved him wrong once more. The mystery surrounding her seemed to only deepen, and while he found himself fascinated by the task of unraveling her history, he also desperately wished to know her better.

What he'd seen at the manor didn't so much surprise him as confirm his suspicion that the person called Evelyn Trevelyan was a complex and occasionally vexing woman. She balked at the notion of injuring an innocent - and sometimes even a known guilty party - but understood the necessity of punishment. She was kind and often shy, but when matters intensified, she was able to assert authority and keep a level head. She was determined, intelligent, and understanding. Violent action was never her first option. Always diplomatic, she would exhaust all of her options before accepting any negative outcome. While that outlook occasionally worked to her detriment, she was sly enough to reap some benefit from her actions, even if it was only finding a slim hint of a silver-lining somewhere no one else could see.

Evelyn put on a kind face when she could, but that did not stop her from expressing her displeasure or her sadness. In fact, her enduring smile made those darker emotions so much more apparent to those around her because she showed them so rarely. Perhaps that was the reason the unshed tears he'd seen in her eyes after she had left the manor tugged at his heartstrings so strongly.

Or maybe, he cursed himself, though there was no real upset behind it, it was because he admired her.

And why shouldn't he? She was a better person than he was. She exemplified all things he wished he saw in himself.

Never mind that she'd kissed him and he wanted to do nothing more than kiss her in return. Fortunately, circumstance prevented that mishap.

He rubbed his eyes with his bare hands. Maker, he was in deep.

"Cullen?"

And it appeared the Maker also enjoyed a good laugh at his expense.

He opened his eyes to see Evelyn standing just inside the shrine, his forearms resting on his bent knees. The look on her face was, what - concerned, hesitant, nervous?

"Need something?" His voice was soft, barely carrying over the roar of the fire.

She closed the distance between them, pausing a moment next to him before she lowered herself onto the floor beside him. Shoulder to shoulder now, she turned her eyes up to his and sighed. "Are we friends?"

Huh? Where did that come from? "Of course." Were they? He thought they'd at least come to an understanding. He'd never had many friends to know for certain, but he thought he'd given the right answer.

He was rewarded with a small smile.

"Then may I ask you a question - one you have to answer honestly?"

On to her now, he thought a moment before nodding his head in assent. Hopefully he could lie fast enough if it was something too prying - but would he want to? He desired to know more of her, was it then wrong of him to deny her the means by which to sate perhaps the same curiosity she held about him?

"What happened back at the manor - when you froze?"

A loaded question, that. One which he'd sensed he'd have to give the answer to at some point. Maybe it would do him some good to get it off of his chest.

"It's a long and complicated explanation," he hesitated, but she made no move to rush him on nor did she look offended at his evasive introduction. "When I lived at Kinloch hold there was a mage I had...harbored an affection for. After her Harrowing she was recruited by the Grey Wardens and I did not see her until she returned several months later. By that time a blood mage named Uldred had usurped the authority of the First Enchanter and the Templar Order, leaving most inhabitants of the Circle Tower either dead or...changed. My friends died, both Templar and mage. I heard and saw everything. I had managed to evade discovery for nearly a week before they found me. Uldred and those of his inner circle robbed me of my defenses, withheld Lyrium from me, and starved me for...I'm not sure how long. They unleashed all manner of demons on me, keen on learning Templar secrets." He snorted, finding that memory painful as well as amusing. "I'm not sure how I withstood their temptations, if I ever really did, but when the dust settled Solona was there to free me. I was so ungrateful - changed by what I had experienced enough that I spurned her friendship. I resented her leaving, resented mages, was fearful of the danger they posed, and I didn't care to hear otherwise for nearly ten years. Memories from my imprisonment still hound me. You once asked if I ever slept? Not if I can help it. When I close my eyes I feel trapped again in that place, and I do not ever wish to return to what I once was. I don't want to be helpless. I don't want to be dependent on a substance that drives you mad if you can't have it. I don't want to feel hate like that for anyone ever again. I joined the Order because I love people. I wanted to help them, and I wanted to stand for something greater than myself. I wanted to be a force of good in this miserable world."

He blew out a tense breath, suddenly feeling the weight of her as she leaned her shoulder against his. It was a small measure of comfort, but it meant the world to him at that moment.

"I'm sorry. I've never really spoken about that before. I don't mean to add more sadness to your day. To answer your question, I was pulled back to that moment in time. It was unsettling." His apology came out in an uncharacteristic rush, but she didn't mind it.

"Don't apologize, Cullen. I asked a question and you answered." She inwardly wept for him. To feel such disdain for yourself after so long and after such a horrible experience was beyond her understanding. Yet here he was, Commander of the Inquisition: outwardly rough and rigid, but gentle when it counted. Lesser men had broken from slighter hardships.

"Thank you, Evelyn." He murmured, staring straight ahead into the flames when a glint of metal caught his eye.

Turning to find the source of the distraction, he discovered the light shone off of the pendant she wore which had now flipped over to reveal a glass vial. "What's this?" He asked, pointing at the necklace resting against her chest.

She looked down, as if she didn't have a clue what he was talking about until her fingers closed protectively against the metal.

"It's ah...a Chantry pendant my father gave me when I left to live at the Circle." She held it up so he could see it better. "The vial on the back side is my brother's phylactery. The Templars no longer needed it after he died, so Edward gave it to me."

"What happened?"

Her weight seemed to sag against him now, her eyes downcast as she examined a crack in the floor. "I broke the rules that night. I knew it was Evan's Harrowing because father had become just as edgy as he had when I went through mine. After the Templars had taken him to the chamber I followed. I knew when he was gone. I couldn't hear a sound, but I felt his passing like the air was being sucked out of my lungs." She bit her lip. "I think I was hysterical, I'm not sure, but I remember storming into the chamber and seeing father standing over Evan's body with this look...I can't even describe it. I knew he had been the one to do it, though. I was angry at him for a long time. As I matured that resentment had gone, but I still feel it sometimes when I miss my brother."

"Your father did it himself because he loved your brother. He showed him mercy when another would simply treat it as job. It was all he could give him."

She nodded, pale hair draping in loose curls over his shoulder. "I know, and I love him for it. It took my younger self a long time to see it that way, though." Evelyn took a shuddering breath. It was a testament to how much the subject troubled her, if the white-knuckled grip she had on the pendant wasn't evidence enough. "It makes me think of that girl today. Her life could have been so different if she'd just had parents like mine."

He smiled despite the dark subject matter. "Evelyn, if everyone had parents like yours there wouldn't even _be_ a mage-Templar war."

Her own smile returned to her lips. Where it belonged, Cullen thought.

"I suppose you're right."

"Usually am."

"Don't get smug, Commander. You'll recall I saved your bruised hind-end earlier today from a rather unpleasant terminus."

"I doubt I could ever forget."

He'd uttered his reply in such a way that she felt the heat rise from her neck to her cheeks. So he hadn't conveniently forgotten - or chose to ignore - that small detail. She should have guessed as much. When you ran around kissing people they didn't tend to forget it easily.

"What?" She asked, deflecting the cause for her quivering heartbeat with humor. "You don't plan on becoming the mindless pawn of another Horror?"

"Would I need to?"

Wait. what?

"Are you implying what I think you are?"

He held his hands up in an innocent, placating gesture. "I'm not sure what you mean."

In a huff she rose to her knees, turning to face him with a glare. Cullen simply stared back with that calculating amber gaze of his.

"Don't you _dare_. If you mean to put yourself into that position simply to get me to k-"

He leaned forward, tentatively brushing his lips against hers.

"...kiss you again…" she finished, hesitating a breath before slanting her mouth over his in a proper kiss.

"It seems I needn't bother," Cullen murmured against her mouth, unsure if the feeling blossoming in his chest was elation or trepidation.

Neither the Commander or the Inquisitor noticed the lurking dark shadow observing them from outside the shrine.

Finally, Samson grinned to himself. Cutting the legs out from underneath the Inquisition would become an easy task indeed with this new development.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I wanted to thank everyone for their patience, as this chapter has been somewhat delayed. As a warning, know that much of this chapter has gone un-edited, but I simply could not stand to look at it any longer. With mid-terms and deadlines I think I just overtaxed myself. That being said, I hope you enjoy reading anyway. :)**

**Please don't punch my face off.**

* * *

><p>Cullen woke up that morning with a start, aware that he had not meant to fall asleep at the shrine. His eyes flew open as he made to rise from his seat on the floor, but an unfamiliar weight in his lap prevented him from doing so. Evelyn grumbled groggily from her position curled against his chest, her cheek resting heavily against the armor there.<p>

Events from the night previous rushed up to meet him, and he suddenly felt foolish and impulsive. He wasn't going to deny that he'd been _thinking_ about kissing Evelyn for some problem was that he had acted on it. Cullen had prided himself on being steadfast, certain, and cautious. What in Andraste's name had possessed him to throw that all to the wind and act on his desires?

She stirred again, cracking one eye open and flicking a finger against the armor just a moment before she realized exactly where she had woken up. Evelyn sat up, spine straight and a blush staining her cheeks as red as the lining on a lay-sister's frock. "Ah...erm-morning." Her eyes shot to the surrounding forest which was still dark, but the sky that could be seen from beneath the canopy of the trees was beginning to lighten. "It is morning, right?"

Cullen desperately tried to ignore how pretty that blush made her look. Stomping mercilessly down on another urge to kiss her, he nodded. "We should get back. We've probably been missed."

Maker, she hadn't thought about that. What in Andraste's name was Varric going to say about _this_ - whatever _this_ was? Nothing untoward had happened. She didn't even think either of them had considered it. It was just...nice to spend time talking about personal matters - ones which, given her and Cullen's respective positions within the Inquisition, didn't normally surface in regular conversation. Given her past, she felt that he understood probably better than even Cassandra what her experience in the Circle had been like. He also came from a large family, though he said that his siblings were still subsisting on the old family business of farming.

The kissing part was - Well, she didn't know what to think about that at the moment, but she knew that she definitely wanted to pursue it in the future. For now, however, they needed to get back to camp before someone got the wrong idea.

Everyone got the wrong idea, and they spent the entire ride to Emprise du Lion trying not to look at one another.

Varric was the only person to actively try and squeeze details out of Evelyn, pestering her as their small army made a turn north. Strangely, the temperature began to drop no more than half a mile down the road.

"Common, Sunshine. You have to at least give me something!" The dwarf goaded.

Evelyn smiled, shrugging her cloak more snugly around her. She was look straight ahead when she answered him, eyes resting on the back of the Inquisition's Commander. It was a detail Varric didn't miss. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"I already _know_ what's going on. You'd have to be blind not to, but seriously, give me some words!"

"Varric, you're being far too nosy. Besides, nothing is going on. We only got caught up talking."

"Talking. Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?" He snorted. "Nah. With the way Curly has been spying on you over his shoulder it's something way more than that."

"We're just friends." Except that there was something else too - something neither she nor Cullen had tried or bothered to define. Varric didn't need to know that.

"Pah!" He threw up his hands in exasperation, but thought a moment before snatching his notebook up and jotting something down, leaving Evelyn to her thoughts.

A sharp call from up ahead and the sound of horns rumbling the tree trunks drew her eyes away from where they stared at Cullen's back and to the expanse of land just beginning to appear through the foliage. Spurring her horse, she drew up beside Cassandra for a better view. Before them lay a rugged and frozen landscape, a village settled at the very bottom of a river valley.

"Is there always snow this far down the mountain this time of year?" Evelyn asked curiously.

"I don't know," Cassandra replied, raising a single shoulder in a shrug. "It does seem strange, but perhaps they simply had an early frost."

"There's the encampment." Cullen nodded toward the small dark dots against the white backdrop of snow.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes, trying to make out any discernible shapes in the seemingly amorphous mass. "Let's go. I'm eager to see what news they have of Michael and the Red Templars."

"You and I both," Cullen murmured, following her with the rest of their forces down onto the valley floor.

They rejoined with the Inquisition's army and the Trevelyans who were guarding what Evelyn thought of as one of the saddest places in the Thedas. The village had appeared in fine order from their earlier vantage point, but as they saw now it was in complete shambles. A whole, sound house could not be found such was the damage each structure had sustained.

"Blessed Andraste…" Evelyn breathed as she dismounted.

Aaron had hurried up to meet her, Cullen and Cassandra joining them as well. "I'm glad your forces are here Inquisition. This is far worse than we expected."

Cullen stiffened, but seemed largely unsurprised. "How bad is it?"

"Aside from the villagers being snatched out of their homes at night by Templars and all of this destruction?" He gestured around him. "Pretty terrible. This is the last settlement in the region with survivors, and even then there's only a handful."

"Templars are kidnapping the villagers?" Evelyn sounded incredulous. She'd seen what the Red Templars were capable of, but surely not all agreed with this abuse of perfectly decent folk. They'd nothing to do with the Chantry or the fall of the Circle.

Aaron breathed a heavy sigh. "Our scouts tell us they've been meaning to bolster their numbers, but most of these people have never even held a sword. Something else is going on.  
>"What of Michael?" She asked, growing more worried by the second.<p>

He shook his head. "No sign yet, which I'm taking to be a good one."

"What is the plan for reconnaissance? have the scouts recovered nothing useful?" Cullen asked.

"We've told then to keep their distance, but since you've arrived we now have the numbers available to knock on their front door."

"You mean to storm their base?"

"That's the nice way to put it. My father has been using much more colorful language since we've arrived here. He means to put down as many of them as he can before they move on to other villages."

"Then in that we agree. Let's see what he has planned." Cullen gestured ahead for Aaron to take them to Lord Trevelyan, and soon Cullen and Cassandra found themselves bent over the crude map of the region arguing about troop movements with Evelyn's brother and father.

The youngest Trevelyan, apparently not invited to the war council, made an effort to see to the needs to the villagers that were left - whether she simply brought them food and water or tended to their wounds. Dorian had even managed to stabilize a crumbling roof well enough that the house became a shelter of sorts. It was certainly warmer than sleeping in a tent outside.

Evelyn had also began to direct the Inquisition's soldiers to fetch warm blankets, rations, anything they could spare to help. One group lashed a pair of horses to some debris to clear it from the town yard, leaving an area safe enough to walk in addition to allowing themselves more room to maneuver their supplies. She had lost track of the time when she'd finally emerged from the shelter, and made note of the sun beginning to descend behind the snow-capped mountains.

"They're still at it," Varric spoke up suddenly from where he leaned against the outer wall.

"I suppose they're having trouble agreeing on a proper course of action?"

He shrugged. "I don't think anyone anticipated a conflict this big or the situation to be so dire. Curly won't leave until these people are safe, you know."

She nodded, unable to help a small smile at the thought. "I know. Shall we go see what they've managed so far?"

"Sure beats freezing my ass off out here." he straightened away from the wall and followed her at a sedate pace.

Torches had been lit and fit snugly into the frozen earth around the sawn stump of a once-giant tree that served as their table. All manner of maps covered the surface, some clearly having been transcribed by scouts earlier in the day, and one official piece stamped with the arms of the Orlesian Empire. Another sheet of parchment details enemy numbers as well as their ranks and where they were situated in an area Evelyn read as Sahrnia Quarry. That was an odd place for a camp, Evelyn thought.

She casually touched Cullen's elbow, letting him know she was standing beside him. Cassandra stood on her other side, appearing quite thoughtful as she studied the information in front of them. The Seeker made a sound of disgust, turning away from the makeshift table to rub her aching eyes.

"Any manner of approach might work, but I am not certain you would call any of them "wise" or "safe". The truth of the matter is that our forces will be descending into a well-fortified labyrinth of largely uncharted mining tunnels. We would be handing ourselves up to the Red Templars on a silver platter."

"Which is why drawing them out might be the best course of action," Lord Trevelyan reasoned. "With your numbers it would be an easy task to pick them off."

"How do we plan to lure so many out into the open? Surely they are not that stupid?"

"Perhaps we need a fresh set of eyes. What do you think?"

Cullen's question nearly startled Evelyn, and at first she'd thought he was speaking to someone else. When she glanced up to see he was looking pointedly at her, she offered him a grateful smile before gently lifting the map to slide it over to her side of the trunk. It seemed Cullen hadn't forgotten that she desired to help these people too, and that her brother's safety was just as much her concern as Aaron and her father's - That, and she was pretty darn handy with a map.

"This is the whole of the mine?" She asked Cullen, circling the organic shape with her finger.

"That's the surface map, yes. This is an incomplete sketch of the underground network." He pointed at a couple long red strikes on the parchment he held then handed it to her. "Those are the entrances. They appear to match the surface account so we can assume it's accurate."

She bit the inside of her cheek, a study habit that hadn't died from her days at the Circle. Her eyes flicked up to her father. He was watching her with an expression she'd never seen him wear before. Uncertainty? She couldn't place it.

Only Cullen shifting his weight enough to subtly press his arm against hers drew her eyes back to the map. He meant to reassure her, having somehow discerned the unease with which she had walked into her father's plans.

"You have an idea. Share it," Cullen spoke firmly, having seen the small spark of revelation in her pretty blue eyes.

"Here," she said quietly, pointing toward the larger surface map. The area she referred to was a long and narrow passage that opened up into a much larger circle. It was the lowest point at the surface of the mine, but the passage she indicated was tactically pleasing. "There may be a great number of Templars, but only so many can fit into this area to pursue." Worrying her lip with her teeth, she pressed onward. "If we camp here, split our forces in two and have them circle around to this larger area, a small team could press through the bulk of their forces and lure them into facing this narrow place here. With their backs turned, our flanking groups would have the element of surprise, and might be able to put pressure enough on them to cause the remainder to flee. At that point they have nowhere else to go but underground. From there the Inquisition can monitor them, and we would have control over their escape."

"So Sunshine is basically saying we send a couple really durable people in as bait to distract the infected Templars while the Inquisition outmaneuvers them." Varric laughed and slapped Cullen on the back hard enough that the Commander nearly lost his balance. The warrior hadn't even realized the dwarf was there. "That's perfect for you, Curly! You love outplaying people."

"I admit," Cassandra sighed, "It is as risky as any of our other plans, but it has a better chance of success it's so...abstract. Afterward we may even hold an advantage - one which would allow us to ask after your son, Lord Trevelyan."

Adair merely grunted his approval, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully as he watched his daughter flush at Varric's praise and shyly accept the Commander's words of approval. It had been nearly a year since he'd seen his daughter, and she was transforming into someone he didn't quite recognize.

Later that night when darkness had finally fallen Varric, Evelyn, Cullen, and the rest of their inner circle sat around a fire near the main body of the Inquisition forces. They said little, exhausted after their long day of preparation for the assault the following morning. While Evelyn's suggestion had provided a decent foundation, those with more experience in war than she had gone over and refined their plan to their benefit, and now all that was left to do was wait.

She hoped it would work.

Varric- of course Varric - broke the silence. "Sunshine, how do you know so much about battlefield tactics? Doesn't seem like the kind of curriculum the Chantry would allow a Circle mage."

She tried to hide her blush. "Well, ah, I would usually finish with my studies before the other apprentices."

"And?" Varric made a rolling motion with his hand in a gesture for her to continue.

"I might have persuaded several of the Templar recruits to let me borrow their war history books." She bashfully twisted a stray lock of hair around one of her fingers. "They are much more interesting than the accounts in the Circle library. Half of those, I suspect, aren't even real."

Cullen laughed. "You're probably right. It would give a mage ideas."

She snorted. "As if any mage could hope to orchestrate battles like Ostagar and Starkhaven."

"You studied yet you knew nothing about the Dales?"

"Apparently another thing the Chantry didn't want in a mage's hands," She murmured, expression growing thoughtful.

"I have a few volumes you could borrow."

Her face lit up like he'd just given her a Satinalia gift. "Really?"

Cullen smirked. "Of course. They usually just sit around gathering dust anyway."

"You've done it now," Aaron chuckled, sliding between Varric and Evelyn to take a seat, "Give her one book and she'll hound you the rest of eternity for more."

"Good thing I have such an extensive personal library."

* * *

><p>"Commander Cullen and I will be the first ones in." Lord Trevelyan's statement was assured and final as he addressed their inner circle. Cullen and Cassandra had agreed on this point, though the former was particularly loathe to relinquish his hold on the Inquisition's army - his army. Gratefully, the loss of control was only temporary, and the ex Knight Commander understood that if any two people were to survive against a veritable colony of Red Templars it would be the pair of men who, at one time or another during their lives, had outranked each and every one of them. One did not become a Knight Commander of the Templar order by simply sitting around on his ass all day.<p>

"Aww, Commander, you sure you don't need my maul? Please tell me you need my maul."

The corner of Cullen's mouth twitched into a smile at the Iron Bull's plea. Frankly, if their positions were to be reversed and he was ten years younger, he would have been feeling the same way.

"I need your maul, Bull, but at a later time - in case you need to crush a few Red Templars to get them off of me."

The Qunari huffed, but dipped his head as a sign that he understood. The loud sigh that left him as he muttered "Everyone else always gets to be the bait." was not lost on Cullen who tried to suppress a smile.

Cullen reached behind his back to take his gauntlets from their usual place tucked beneath his wide leather belt. They were gone.

"Wh-"

"Looking for these?" Evelyn asked, holding them out to him with a very guilty look on her face.

He narrowed his eyes on her, though the expression was no longer threatening as it had been when they'd first met. "What did you do?"

"Nothing too major," She looked at the sky, the ground, anywhere but him as she scratched some phantom itch at her collar.

"Evelyn…" He drew her name out in a warning, very curious now as to what she had been up to with his armor. His finger brushed against the cool plate that would cover the wrist. The spark of magic he felt there momentarily startled him.

"I might have asked Varric to nick them from you last night so I could enchant them." She said in a rush. "I figured if you were going to do this whole crazy run-in-blind-and-hope-for-the-best thing you might have use of some added protection." Since I'm not going to be there, she wanted to add, and would have if her father and brother weren't scrutinizing them so closely. "It's a barrier for you in case you lose your shield. It should survive a couple of really good hits from a heavy weapon. We had Bull test it this morning."

It all came out in a rush she was speaking so quickly. It was as if she was trying to justify the thievery of his armor and enchanting it without his permission. He would have been miffed if he couldn't tell that she was only acting out of concern for his well-being.

"Thank you, Evelyn."

He tugged on the gauntlets and lifted his shield from his back as he turned to Lord Trevelyan. "Ready?"

"Let's get a move on."

Cullen and Adair were followed by their army until they reached the forward camp they'd specified the night before. It was there that the troops split in two. The first unit left with Cassandra and Ser Barris while the second followed Aaron, Evelyn, and her party to flank the mining complex. The Commander and Lord Trevelyan were left to take the most direct path which would lead them into the center of the complex and deep into enemy territory.

The stone-walled entrance into the natural canyon in which the mine was located rose a good hundred feet above their heads. It felt oppressive, intimidating, and very much the perfect backdrop for housing a cult of crazed Templars, Cullen thought.

"How did you come to be in the Inquisition?"

Adair's question pulled him out of his inner observations of the landscape around them. So far they had not come across anyone. The complex was eerily silent.

"I was recruited in Kirkwall by Seeker Petaghast."

"You had recently become the Knight Commander there, correct?"

"Yes, though once the Circle's dissolved there was little need for me to remain. After I agreed to join the Inquisition I took those who would follow me and returned to Ferelden."

"From what I understand there were very few who chose to not accompany you."

Where was this line of questioning headed? "Ser?"

"I am merely making an observation of the loyalty you command. It is rare to find a Knight Commander so well-liked."

"I suspect the majority of that had to do with my denunciation of Meredith. In the end she was a danger to everyone."

Adair inclined his head toward Cullen, though neither man made eye contact. They were far too busy scanning their surroundings for potential threats.

"I knew Meredith when she was a young girl. I was saddened when I heard the account of her transgressions. She was so promising. Good heart too."

"To clarify, we are speaking of Meredith Stannard?"

Evelyn's father laughed. "The same, though you arrived under her command long after she'd begun to become a problem. Her extremist view of magic might have been acceptable for a Knight Captain or a Knight Lieutenant, but a Knight Commander must hold the interests of both mages and Templars under their care."

Cullen didn't want to even think about how much like her he had been upon his arrival in the city of Chains. Frankly, the notion sickened him. So he opted to change the subject. "Your son Edward is the Knight Commander in Ostwick? Evelyn has told me that your family maintains a Circle for those who wish to remain."

"Correct. He was my successor and I daresay he's had a better time of it than I did. He's been through two rebellions and hardly bats an eye."

Ah, Cullen thought that made a bit more sense. It seemed the Trevelyans had kept the power within the family. "What made your command a trial?"

Frankly, he'd been very curious about Lord Trevelyan since his arrival at Skyhold.

The old Knight Commander let out a hearty guffaw. "My _wife_! We never agreed on anything. She was a perpetual thorn in my side. Come to think of it we still don't, and she still is."

Strange, Templar couples were usually not permitted to serve in the same unit. It was too much of a liability should something happen.

"She did not agree with your policies?"

"Does any First Enchanter? Sometimes I think that's part of their bloody job description: exasperate the Knight Commander until he begins to have dreams of strangling you."

Cullen blinked. Momentarily thrown. "Your wife is the First Enchanter?"

"Was." Adair risked a glance back at Cullen, noting the man's surprised expression. "Maker, boy, you don't have to look so scandalized. That's almost the same face I got from the Revered Mother when I asked to marry Louisa."

Cullen couldn't help the embarrassed flush of his cheeks that reached to the very tips of his ears. Well, around the Trevelyans he was learning something new every day.

"J-just surprised, is all. That...certainly explains a lot."

"About Evelyn and the family? I suppose it does." He paused a beat, seeming to consider his next words carefully. "She respects you a great deal, and Peter says you are trustworthy. I would thank you for looking after her all this time."

Why did that seem to sound so final?

"It's not a problem, Ser. Evelyn has become a much beloved member of the Inquisition."

"So I've heard. I must ask, however, that you and your fellow advisers release her back to her family once we return from here. She does not belong in your Inquisition or any battle, political or otherwise."

Cullen felt his blood run cold at the mere thought. Did Lord Trevelyan truly not realize how much his daughter meant to the men and women of the Inquisition - how much she meant to _him_? He struggled to maintain his professionalism, surprised when his response flowed easily from his lips. "I believe that should be a decision left up to your daughter alone, Lord Trevelyan."

Walking slightly behind the older man, Cullen could not see the bare hint of a smile on Adair's lips. The Commander had given the right answer.

* * *

><p>The lock, old and rusted from the weather as it was, very nearly came apart in Varric's hands without any help from his pick. It dropped to the ground with a soft thunk, and the door to the cage swung open with a groan.<p>

"Maker be praised! You've saved us!" One of the villagers who had been trapped inside gripped Evelyn's forearm as the mage attempted to hand her down off of the construct.

"Do you know why they were keeping you here?" Aaron asked, lifting a few children from the caged wagon. They shivered as the icy wind blew through their thin and tattered clothes.

All of the captives seemed to turn as one to look at one of their number who hadn't survived. Evelyn had assumed the death was a result of the elements.

"Shit," Varric muttered, eyes narrowing as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Red Lyrium. It's...growing out of the body."

Evelyn hurried over to see for herself, drawing back with a grimace when she saw the tiny red crystals peeking up from beneath the corpse's fingernails and hidden in the line of its hair.

"That's the idea," one of the villagers explained. "The red stuff grows on the body and they mine it. Don't know what it does, but they seem to be mad for the stuff."

"You better hurry home before the snow worsens," Aaron suggested, a few thick flakes catching in his hair and eyelashes and sticking against the dark blue cloak fit snugly around his shoulders.

They didn't need a reason to run off as they did, the threat of the Templars recapturing them surely quickening their pace back to Sahrnia.

"That must be why they wanted the mine," Evelyn deduced while Aaron motioned for their half of the troops to keep moving. They needed to be quick if they were to arrive on time at their appointed destination.

"Kidnap the locals, toss them in a mine to grow that creepy shit and then actually mine it. Yeah, sounds like the twisted kind of plot we would walk into," Bull groused.

"There, there, Tiny. You'll get to hit something soon enough," Varric smirked, loosening Bianca from her holster on his back as they made their way further into the mining complex.

Not ten minutes later they were swarmed with Red Templars.

The snow had continued to fall from the sky, coming down in large flakes dense enough to obscure their , the red Lyrium growing out of the Templars made them easy targets in a field of white. While Varric, and Dorian held back with Evelyn to pick off their foes from a distance, Aaron and Bull began to drive the bulk of their enemies back to the center of the complex where Cullen and Adair were supposed to be fighting at this moment.

The thought made Evelyn feel uneasy. Weren't all of the men they were fighting now supposed to be distracted by the duo they'd already sent in?

A frown puckered her brow, and without thinking she'd begun to hurry in the direction Cullen was supposed to be.

"Evelyn!"

She heard Aaron's call behind her, but she didn't look back.

"You know, sauntering around in the middle of a battle is usually my thing, Evie," Dorian complained. he and Varric and followed her when she'd suddenly deviated from their plan.

She made a sound much too like one of Cassandra's disgusted little scoffs. "Something is wrong, Dorian."

"Are your Cullen senses tingling?"

The glare she gave him was absolutely of Cassandra's influence.

Evelyn managed to forge their path simply by using her shield as a kind of battering ram while Dorian and Varric took care of the Templars that closed in behind them. It was risky, reckless, and she knew more than one person that was going to be furious with her, but if she had learned anything in her sheltered life it was to listen to her gut. When they had emerged, they suddenly understood why their plan had gone awry.

There was a second entrance to the underground tunnels, and Templars were pouring out of it. The second half of the army was actually driving their enemy to engage Aaron's forces earlier than they had anticipated. It rendered using the narrow passage as a funnel completely useless.

She didn't need to think twice about throwing up her barrier to prevent more Templars from coming through. She was putting herself at risk, relying on only Dorian and Varric to cover her. Thankfully Bull and Aaron arrived with the rest of their unit to save the day.

She'd let her guard down, focusing solely on her barrier just like Cullen had always told her not to. As a reward for her lack of attention, a Templar had managed to get the jump on her, swinging his blade in a half-circle at her midsection.

Aaron was suddenly beside her, bashing the Templar with his shield before running him through with his own blade.

"You okay, Evie?"

"Fine! We need something to block this door! There was a second entrance the maps didn't show."

He nodded, barking an order over his shoulder and soon they had successfully managed to bar the entrance without the help of Evelyn's magic. She staggered a bit, feeling the sting at her ribs, but at the moment she was more concerned about how the rest of the Inquisition's forces had fared.

"Sunshine, you sure you're alright? You look little pale."

"I'm fine. It's just a scratch."

Varric did not look convinced, but followed her through the crowd of rest of their men and women who were busy taking care of the straggling Red Templars. Evelyn hardly seemed to notice the amount of danger she was placing herself in, though whether the reason for it was borne from concern for her brother remained to be seen. The dwarf was still pretty certain she had been injured.

Their party of three hurried through the narrow passage Cullen and Lord Trevelyan were supposed to have occupied and emerged into a complete bloodbath. Dorian and Varric pulled up short, marveling at the sheer number of Red Templars that lay dead at their feet.

"Shit, Sunshine's old man and Curly really know what they're doing," Varric muttered under his breath.

"Don't forget Cassandra was here as well," Dorian added. "That woman is utterly terrifying with a sword."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

At the mage's comment they'd rounded a corner into an even larger open space, the walls surrounding them cluttered with scaffolding. The remaining half of the Inquisition's army stood at the far end while three dark shapes were visible through the falling snow at the center.

"Michael!" Evelyn surged forward in an impressive show of speed, rushing toward what proximity would reveal as Lord Trevelyan, Cullen, and the Seeker herself.

Cullen stepped forward to block her way.

"You don't want to look, Evelyn," his words were quiet but firm.

She ignored him, dodging around his body to see what had her father so silent.

Lord Trevelyan knelt next to Michael as the young man's breaths came out in labored wet gurgles. Her father quietly recited transfigurations, not looking up from his vigil even as she dropped to her knees beside him.

"Michael?" She asked again, the sound barely registering as more than a timid disbelieving cry. Evelyn could not let this happen. Not again. Reaching out a trembling hand, she called on her power through the Veil. She would heal him. She had to. She'd already lost one brother.

Adair reached out and caught her wrist, shaking his head. "He is dying, Evelyn. Let him do it with dignity."

She twisted out of his grasp, tears beginning to prick the corners of her eyes. "But I can save him, daddy. He doesn't have to die!" Heedless, she reached out again, fingers nearly skimming over the gaping wound in his chest before she was quickly snatched up off the ground.

"Don't touch him!" Cullen warned her. Evelyn didn't see the small Red Lyrium crystals lining her brother's exposed skin in her panic.

"Let me go!" She struggled mightily against Cullen's vice-like grip. She almost broke away until he banded his arms around her torso to keep her from moving. "Cullen let me go! I can save him!"

When she threw the entire weight of her body into another failed escape attempt she began to sob in earnest. "Please! Please let me help him!"

Everyone was silent. No one responded to her pleas. Even Cassandra stared dutifully down at Michael's rapidly deteriorating condition, not risking a look up at Evelyn. Barris and the others waited respectfully nearby.

The weighty silence seemed too final - too much like they were all simply giving up. If she could somehow…

She reached again for her magic, intending to bathe the area in a healing aura before the familiar embrace of her power was abruptly torn from her. The sudden absence left her nauseated and disoriented. Coupled with her own physical pain, the oppressive aura forced her body to simply shut down and black out. She went limp in Cullen's arms.

The Commander cast a sharp glare behind him where he had sensed the origin of the Smite. Ser Barris had begun to draw his sword when they both realized it was Aaron who had performed the invasive action. Nearly the entirety of his unit shadowed behind him.

Adair stood abruptly, eyes narrowing on his eldest son. "That was entirely unnecessary!"

"She was drawing on her magic while she was emotionally compromised. She could have hurt someone," Aaron argued, wrongfully assuming that he had done nothing wrong.

Cullen lifted her body to carry her properly cradled in his embrace, at the moment uncaring of the reasons why Aaron had violated his sister's trust. When he looked down at her sleeping face, he noticed a dark stain smeared over the chest of his armor. Shit.

"She's wounded!"

"Hold onto your breeches, Commander." Dorian appeared beside him, hovering a hand over Evelyn's torso that began to shine with a faint blue glow. "She was running around with this like a chicken with her head cut off earlier. She will be fine now."

* * *

><p>The journey back to Skyhold was almost unbearable for Cullen. It was obvious that the Trevelyans were in the worst way, though Lord Trevelyan did his best to conceal his sorrow over having to put a second child to the sword. Aaron grieved as well, but spent most of his time busying himself with menial tasks to keep negative thoughts from getting the best of him. Evelyn wasn't speaking - to anyone.<p>

He observed her from a distance as she rode ahead with Cassandra. Her posture was rigid, her eyes cold. Cullen couldn't say he blamed her.

Shortly after Dorian had healed her their forces left to return to camp. A small unit was left to secure the mine, ensuring that any remaining Red Templars would be swiftly and efficiently dealt with. They had also removed their dead from the battlefield. Michael's body was unsafe to travel with back to the Free Marches. Lord Trevelyan feared that transporting him would only spread the taint of the Red Lyrium further, and after what he had seen he was not keen on repeating the experience. Ultimately it was decided that they would burn Michael's body along with the other men and women of the Inquisition they could not carry back, and so it was that night they had lit a funeral pyre and held a modest service for their fallen.

Still recovering from the effects of a very over-powered Smite, Evelyn had missed the entire thing which only caused her greater distress upon awakening. Cullen was very nearly certain she was going to confront her brother, but instead she had slipped into a tight-lipped and frigid silence.

Perhaps what wounded the Commander the most was that she would not speak to him either, and that every time she looked his way her eyes had lost their warmth and sincerity, accusation now burning in their azure depths. He had lost her trust, and he found himself floundering for a resolution.

He could not deny that in the week it took them to return to Skyhold he had begun to sorely miss her. It had frustrated him to realize that he had come to depend upon her easy manner and good company to defuse the worst of his melancholy. The physical symptoms of his withdrawal were simple enough to deal with, painful as they so often were, but the emotional toll it took on him was much harder to tackle. A different beast altogether, it lay in wait until his most vulnerable moments - usually as he slept. Having Evelyn around took his mind off of all the negativity, and replaced the terrors with happier things. He didn't know how she had managed to worm her way into his heart, but now that he had lost her confidence he was achingly aware of her absence.

The worst feeling of all was when she stood across from him at the war table the evening they had returned home, and though she was close enough to reach out and touch he felt like she was a thousand leagues away from him.

The candles had burned low by the time their meeting had concluded, leaving Cullen with the task for preparing for another tour outside of Skyhold. Hawke had sent word in his absence, detailing the location of an old fort in the Western Approach she wanted him to look into. In addition to the Champion's specific request for his aid, Dorian had also approached him with locations of Venatori mages he suspected of having a hand in the dealings in the Emprise. There was so much work to be done, and Cullen's window of opportunity was quickly closing.

He needed to find her.

Excusing himself, he followed the very faint sensation of her magic to the gardens. She'd been doing a terrible job lately riding herd on her emotions. He didn't fault her for that in the least. She deserved to be able to mourn.

He saw her standing beneath the arbor, the garden vacant as the beginnings of a drizzle began to fall from the sky.

"Evelyn?" Cullen approached her slowly, uncertainty of her reaction eating at him. Sweet Andraste, what had she done to him to reduce him to this? He once again felt like the gangly, awkward, stuttering teen he thought he'd left behind all those years ago at Kinloch Hold.

She turned to face him, wiping furiously at her eyes. "Am I needed?"

_Maker, yes._ "No." He shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he thought to press on. "I wanted to ask how you fare."

That same sorrowful look entered her eyes. "I'm fine."

Evelyn Trevelyan was a piss-poor liar.

Cullen sighed. "I understand what it's like-"

"You do _not_ understand. You have _no idea_ what this feels like." She struggled to grab ahold of herself, striving to keep her voice calm though she rather felt like bursting into tears.

"Evelyn, I-"

"Go. Please, just go." She turned back around, wiping at her eyes again. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

The next morning saw the Commander and his second leaving the gates of Skyhold before the sun rose in the sky with a fresh contingent of soldiers following in their wake. Evelyn hardly noticed their absence.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: The doc uploads are being super lame at the moment, everyone. Sorry for the small delay, but back to our regularly scheduled programming. Please note there are several breaks in this chapter - completely intentional. Also be aware that this chapter focuses predominantly on Cullen. The next will focus more on Evelyn. This and the next chapter began as a series of one-shots which I've smooshed together to create some kind of Optimus Prime CullenxEvelyn love transformer.**

**Yeah**

**Once again, thank you for all of the kind reviews.**

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><p>There was nothing quite like the feeling of being cooked alive inside one's own armor.<p>

The unrelenting sun bore down on Cullen's dark plate from the cloudless sky, reminding the Commander exactly why he hated this Maker-forsaken place with such passion. Nothing but sand and blue sky surrounded them in all directions. Only when they reached a small outcropping of rocks did they chance to stop and enjoy the shade.

Cullen didn't particularly enjoy the lull in activity. Since his very badly handled conversation with Evelyn the night before he left Skyhold, he had the misfortune of bearing a conscious and subsequently a desire to return to that painful encounter in his head every time he had the chance. While he hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, he still felt as if he had failed in conveying his feelings on the matter. He hadn't meant to soothe her with meaningless platitudes like so many others. He simply wished to offer her support - to lend an ear, a person to rage at, even a shoulder to cry on if she so chose.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he tried to will away the sudden ache in his chest at her rejection. It had been returning with a persistent and annoying frequency the further he drew away from Skyhold. Cullen had never been so open or honest with any of his previous paramours, and so this brand of pain was completely unfamiliar to him. He had felt disappointment, sure. Sadness? Maybe a time or two. Never this too-powerful, crushing weight bearing down on him.

Maker, he'd been ten different kinds of fool to think two people who were so different could hope to have..._something_ together.

"Commander," Rylen called from behind him, "a rider is bearing down from the north."

With a frown Cullen drew up beside his second in command and looked in the direction the man had pointed.

"Glass," he said evenly while holding out his hand. All trace of his previous emotional turmoil forgotten for the moment. Rylen placed a well-worn, but functional spyglass in the Commander's upturned palm. As he extended the scope and placed it to his eye the small dot on the horizon suddenly revealed itself to be a single rider galloping out in their direction.

He collapsed the spyglass and returned it to Rylen, giving the all clear. This man was not a threat - at least not to the Inquisition.

A short while later Peter dismounted from his horse with a grin, one which Cullen found himself reflecting in kind. Like Evelyn, Peter's easy nature made it easy to hold him in high esteem.

"It's good to see you, Cullen!"

The two men approached one another, clasping each other's forearms in greeting before turning toward the center of camp.

"Likewise, Seeker Trevelyan," Cullen replied, to which Peter almost wrinkled his nose at the stuffy title.

"I thought we were past this."

Cullen and Peter had exchanged a few letters since their agreement after the events at Therinfal, but the Commander had always struggled to separate Peter from the Seeker title he bore. Having been raised a Templar since childhood, Cullen had always understood that the Seekers were his superiors and therefore meant to be treated with honor, respect, and difference. It was a difficult frame of mind to break away from, much to Peter's amusement.

"I apologize," Cullen began with a smirk. "Perhaps I forgot our arrangement after being exposed to your father for a few weeks."

Peter laughed, ruffling a hand through his hair to get some of the sand out as the two men walked into the shade. "I thought they might have finally gone to Skyhold. While they trust my word, father has always been over-attentive when it comes to Evelyn. That and I'm sure the business with Michael didn't help things much."

Cullen tried to hide the wince that name brought about, but the reaction didn't escape the Seeker's notice.

"Tell me what happened. Father outlined the mess in a letter, but he spared me the particulars."

"Before or after Aaron smote your sister?" Cullen asked, a touch of anger still lacing his words.

Peter's brows hit his hairline at his surprise. "Shit."

"I feel the same way."

With the army rested, watered, and fed, they began to march again toward the location Hawke had indicated. The scouts before them had already made contact with the Champion, and Harding had secured a safe place for them to camp for the night once they arrived.

After their conversation about his siblings, Peter had fallen into a contemplative silence for much of the journey as he penned a letter. When he had finished, he folded the parchment only twice and tucked it away beneath the leather chest piece of his armor.

"When you conclude your business here, I will return to Skyhold with you," he said finally.

Cullen nodded. He'd expected that. "Of course, but I warn you that I'm not sure when we will be returning home."

"Who has command of your armies while you are away?"

"Seeker Cassandra."

Peter hummed, seeming satisfied with that answer as they passed through terrain that now began to look less like an endless sea of sand. Formations of rock began to crop up in greater numbers until the landscape shifted into a red-stoned canyon. When they had finally come upon Harding and her scouts, Cullen recalled that he had probably never been so delighted at the sight of a featureless pool of water ever before in his life.

He had stiffly dismounted from his horse and began to rifle through his saddle bag when he heard her behind him. As always, she was hoping to get the jump on him.

"Have a nice trip?"

He merely glanced over his shoulder at Hawke, then cast an eye around at their fairly desolate location. "It had its moments."

"You mean the ones before you had to get out of that fur ruff you're so fond of?" She flashed a smirk, remembering a comment she had made about his dress armor being ridiculous and impractical.

Cullen secured the leather bound journal in his hand and turned away from his horse to walk up to her. "The same. I find I miss it already."

She pretended to look offended at his sarcasm, the shocked o-shape of her mouth flowing into an easy smile. "The snark returns. What would the Revered Mother have to say about that?"

"Three lashes and kitchen duty for a week."

She laughed outright, turning to follow him as he passed her to consult Harding on their situation and send off a letter to Skyhold to let Cassandra and Leliana know they had arrived without incident in the Approach. He sighed inwardly, thinking of the last letter he had written, and hoped Evelyn would discover it because he had lacked the conviction to place it into her hands himself. It was cowardly, but the nightmares had been particularly bad that night.

"Cullen, I have a letter for you," Peter spoke, striding toward him with a hawk shifting to balance on his wrist.

The Commander frowned. He supposed it wouldn't be all that unusual to find a missive waiting for him, especially if Harding had let the others know where they were to be stationed. Still, he got the feeling that this message was not from Leliana, Cassandra, or even Josephine. In fact, he sensed the small thrill of magic shoot to the base of his spine that told him this particular bit of parchment had been in Evelyn's presence.

All at once he felt both excited and nervous as he took the tri-folded letter in hand and slipped it into his gauntlet. If it was concerning their last conversation, he would not wish to read it in present company.

* * *

><p><em>Evelyn<em>

The name was written on the front in the assured, crisp and formal script utilized by Cullen in all of his official correspondence. There was nothing particularly unusual or alarming about it, save that she could not recall having ever received a letter from him in all their acquaintance. Indeed, she had never been so far removed from his presence to require it.

Breaking the wax seal, pressed into place by the ring he bore on his forefinger, she unfolded the missive and hungrily devoured its contents despite the trepidation coiling round in her gut like a snake waiting to strike.

_Do not be fearful of this letter containing a reprimand in any fashion, nor worry that I think any less of you for acting out your grief. I assure you now because I know it is in your nature to dwell on confrontation like Ferelden gnaws on his bone._

_All levity aside, I wish to enlighten you on subjects which you came to miss during our time away from Skyhold, and I hope that by revealing these matters to you, you will cease to blame yourself so completely for what transpired in the Emprise. May it never be said that I have a way with words, so please disregard any phrasing that would seem irreverent or otherwise offend you. I assure you from the bottom of my heart that it is not intentional._

_The first matter which I would lay to rest would be to recount the death of your brother, Michael Trevelyan, at the blade of your father. Lord Trevelyan and I happened upon Michael in the thick of the battle, and as such we were unable to distinguish him from the other enemies that had assailed us. While it may pain you to read this, know that Michael did engage us, and as a result was struck down by your father's hand, suffering a grievous injury. When you had come upon us we had already determined your brother's identity. We had given him his last rights and were simply waiting for the Maker to take him. You will recall that no one moved to heal him, and that was because he had already become infected with the tainted Lyrium. You could not save him. He was too far gone, and for that you must not blame yourself. He died well._

_The mention of this brings me to the second matter I must address. My restraint of you when you tried to heal Michael I know was unwelcome. It would have been my preference not to have done so, but I could not risk you exposing yourself to the infection. It is selfish of me to admit that I could not lose you - not like that. If you had become infected, and had I needed to strike you down, I honestly doubt my present ability to do so. I do not know what it is between us, but it is enough that your end would be my undoing. I would not see you harmed, even if it meant taking your from your brother's side as he lay dying. For that I humbly beg your forgiveness - both for my selfish desire to keep you and failing to protect you from the events that transpired at the hands of your brother Aaron._

_Finally, I am aware that missing Michael's funeral has left somewhat of a void in you that you have yet to fill. If you look in the bottom left drawer of my desk, I have something there for you that I believe may help. Perhaps you may also see fit to keep it for a memorial service of your choosing, so you can say goodbye._

_I understand what it feels like to never have that chance._

_I hope this letter finds you well. Remain safe, and please help yourself to my books. I do not know when I will be returning home._

_Yours,_

_Cullen_

Evelyn folded the letter and dropped her hands to her stomach, eyeing Cassandra at the desk who regarded her with poorly veiled curiosity.

"What did it say?" She asked, unsure of what Evelyn's silence meant.

The two women had come into his office in an attempt to gather the notes he had been taking on a potential operation in the Exalted Plains. In their attempt to sift through the inordinate number of correspondence, Cassandra had accidentally knocked a tome to the floor that had lay half-buried beneath the papers. Upon lifting it, a letter slipped from between its cover and pages bearing Evelyn's name. Thinking nothing of it, the Seeker had handed the item to Evelyn, who at first looked horrified and then downright curious. Cassandra had known something was going on, but it was not her business to pry. Nevertheless, it did not stop her romantic heart from fantasizing over the contents of such a well-hidden letter; secreted away between the pages of a book titled The Orlesian War Machine - Glory 2:10-20.

"An apology," Evelyn finally replied, thumbing the edge of the paper absently as she held it against her stomach.

Cassandra made a face. "What for? You were the one who didn't want to see him."

Evelyn sighed and nodded, well aware that she handled that particular situation very poorly. Cullen was her friend, and she had treated his offer of comfort as if he had been the reason for her brother's death. She understood now, she thought, glancing again down at the letter.

Michael could not be helped. Even if she had successfully managed to heal him he would still have been under the influence of Red Lyrium, and perhaps no longer himself. It was a kindness to let him die, and everyone but her had seen that. She still would not forgive Aaron, however. Thankfully, her father didn't seem all that concerned over her spiteful treatment of her overzealous brother.

"He is worried what I think of him. He didn't say as much, but that is what he meant."

Cassandra pursed her lips. "How so?"

Evelyn sighed, thrusting the letter into the Seeker's hands. "Read for yourself." There was no helping it now. Nearly half of the Inquisition thought they had spent the night together anyway and Cassandra was hardly the gossipy type.

"Huh," she said a moment later, sliding the paper over the surface of the wooden desk back toward Evelyn.

"Is that all?" The mage's mouth kicked up at the corner in an amused smirk. Part of her appreciated that Cassandra was taking this as seriously as she was, but another found the woman's concern endearing and rather adorable. Whatever Varric said of her, she was not unkind.

"_Are_ you two pursuing a relationship?" she finally asked.

"Maker, no. I mean...I don't know. We never got the chance to talk about it."

"Huh."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. "What is it? I can see the wheels in your head turning."

With probably the world's best poker face, Cassandra plucked up a blank sheet of paper, quill and pushed them toward Evelyn along with the inkwell.

"Write him back."

She frowned. "Write him back? And tell him what, Cassandra?"

"Whatever comes to mind."

"There is an awful lot on my mind and none of it should be put to paper, I can assure you of that."

The Seeker's brows rose as she let a small laugh escape her at the thought. "Then perhaps you should start small."

* * *

><p><em>Cullen<em>

_Friends forgive each other, right?_

_Evelyn_

The brief message was scrawled out on the very middle of one of his most expensive sheets vellum. Were it anyone else writing him, he might have had the inclination to box their ears; however, since it was Evelyn, he simply decided that he would be happy she deigned to contact him at all.

His eyes skimmed over the page, catching something he didn't see on his first examination. At the very bottom near the edge of the paper there was another line of writing. So the profligate use of his stationery had been deliberate.

_I appreciate that you even thought to keep his ring. I would apologize to you presently, but my thanks cannot be conveyed by putting words to paper._

Well, at least her reply had assuaged the worst of his fears. She did not hate him - at least it didn't appear so.

"What's that dopey smile for, Commander?"

She snatched the letter out of his lap before he could hide it, her calculating eyes pursuing the contents before a knowing little smirk danced at the corner of her mouth.

Cullen wanted to groan in frustration. Why the Maker sent Hawke to test his patience time and again was beyond his understanding. This was borderline torture. He blew out a tense breath and scrubbed his bare hands over his face in a vain attempt to scour her from his presence.

It didn't work.

"I had been hearing rumors," she began, that damnable smile still in place, "but I had dismissed them because I was under the impression you were _far_ too prim and proper to have any _extracurricular activities_."

"Shows how little you know of me," he replied with a grimace.

Then suddenly she plopped down in front of him, legs crossed and chin resting in the palm of one hand while the other held out the folded letter as if in some kind of peace offering.

"Do tell."

He took the letter, tucking it beneath his breastplate before he narrowed his eyes on her far too expectant expression.

"Absolutely not."

She appeared disappointed for all of two seconds before she she turned and called to Peter who, Maker only knew why, was already walking toward them. In her hand she held a piece of vellum remarkably similar to the one she had given…

_Fuck!_

"Marian, you do know that Peter is-"

"Evelyn's overprotective, I'm-going-to-threaten-everyone-who-makes-her-cry-under-pain-of-death, and drop dead gorgeous older brother? Yup." She grinned. "I need some entertainment. Unless, of course, you wish to tell me the story yourself."

He didn't want to tell her anything. He _wanted_ to wrap his hands around her pretty little throat. He could not, however, expose Evelyn in such a manner. So it was with great reluctance that he began to recount his minor dalliances under the probing and incredibly uncomfortable direction of Hawke's questions. The woman could give Cassandra a run for her money as an interrogator. The entire situation was made even more awkward when Peter did join them, seating himself on the ground next to Cullen while he nibbled on a piece of bread.

"Wait, wait wait," Hawke held up a hand for emphasis, frown firmly in place. "You're telling me that you and Solona-?"

Cullen snorted. Really? "Is that so surprising?"

"Yeah, actually. I mean, she has a type and you're it, but I wouldn't have guessed you - Mr. Straight-laced, rule abiding, model Templar - would go along with it."

"Like I said before, Hawke, you know very little about me."

Peter frowned at the hunk of bread he held to his lips, brow furrowing in his own curiosity. "Do you two know each other very well?"

"Not by choice," Cullen answered quickly, leaving Hawke to simply grin at his peevish expression. "The events of the Kirkwall Rebellion made it necessary for us to work together."

"Mm, yes, I'm familiar with that. I was one of the Seekers tasked with observing Hawke and her friends for a few weeks after the Qunari invasion."

Cullen took much pleasure in the shocked and nervous expression that had suddenly replaced the smug self-satisfaction Hawke usually wore.

"You _spied_ on me?"

"Of course we did. We weren't sure if you were just a really lucky, really powerful apostate or if you actually had some agenda outside of reigning in loose Templars and putting down a few mercenary groups."

Her sharp gaze would have gutted him if she had anything to say about it. "I did have a bone to pick with the Chantry, at least as far as the Divine was concerned."

"The Seekers never thought anything of the sort, matter of fact." He chewed a piece of his bread, looking thoughtfully up at the darkened sky. "You were getting by, barely, and it was clear the only person of your acquaintance with any intention of doing the Chantry harm was Anders. You're shit with a knife, you know that?"

Hawke visibly bristled at the painful memory of slipping that dagger between Ander's ribs. His betrayal had elicited such an acute and pervasive kind of rage in her that she didn't need to even think twice when he asked her to end it. One less problem she had to deal with.

Despite her anger, she had faltered. The wound had been fatal but sloppily executed and he would have taken ages to die. She didn't care enough to stay. She simply left him there to die in the slop and muck of the street - as if he hadn't saved her worthless ass a hundred times.

"Yeah. I know. What of it?"

"Fixed that problem after you left."

"Huh," she thought, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. Ander's suffering had always weighed heavily on her mind. "Thanks, I guess...err.."

"Peter Trevelyan," he spoke, biting the bit of bread between his teeth to extend his hand to shake hers. She responded in kind, though she wasn't any less guarded around the Seeker.

"Marian Hawke, but of course you already know that."

Peter chuckled, and Cullen relaxed enough to take a drink from his water skin now that he knew Hawke wasn't going to do anything he would regret.

"So about this massive crush you have in the Inquisitor, Altar Boy…"

Cullen choked on his drink.

Void take the damned woman!

* * *

><p>"If we live I'll entertain the notion of speaking to you about my sister." Peter spoke quietly, standing with Hawke and Cullen as they eyed the rather intimidating edifice of the keep they were about to take. A firm breeze picked up enough to stir the hair that had fallen loose from Hawke's bun against her neck.<p>

Cullen grimaced. Peter hadn't said a word to him on the subject after Hawke had tightened the proverbial noose around his neck. If anything, that made the Commander more uneasy than if he'd just come out and confronted him on the matter. Cullen was very good at tackling a problem head-on, but this shifty-eyed business was irritating him.

"How about we just focus on living in a general sense for the moment?" he replied.

"That sounds blessedly simple to me," Hawke broke in with her snark, one hand resting on her cocked him while the other held her staff. "You two done talking or are we going to crack some skulls?"

"I think I'm beginning to like you!" Peter shouted over the sudden wind that had swept down from the high country over the parched sands of the Approach. It roared in their ears as millions of grains of sand tossed against each other, bouncing into their hair and beneath their armor.

"May the Maker have mercy on your wretched soul, Trevelyan!" Cullen called back.

Hawke only answered with a toothy grin.

Getting rid of the exterior guard was a simple enough matter. Surprisingly, the Venatori were a predictable lot with limited battlefield experience. Much to Cullen and Hawke's amusement, they got all kinds of nervous when the Commander rushed into their personal space. They would focus so much on the big intimidating man with the armor that they neglected to keep an eye on the nimble little mage picking them off with several well-placed fireballs. Peter assisted as well, but for the moment he was tasked with getting into the keep undetected and raising the gate for their forces.

Cullen swept his blade low, removing one of the legs from the warrior who'd thought it'd be a good idea to engage him one-on-one. Really, were mages in Tevinter the only people who knew how to fight? He must write Dorian and ask.

A deep groan and the sound of metal screeching against metal alerted the Champion and the Commander to Peter's success, and Cullen briefly assessed the situation before ordering his company to charge. Though he'd only brought a small number of skilled men, it was better than having so many soldiers one could not tell his enemy from his friend in the mayhem.

They entered the keep, filling the courtyard with the sounds of battle. Clashing steel, rending flesh, and the thump of bodies hitting the ground surrounded them, but to the seasoned warriors among them, these gruesome sounds were the familiar notes of a song imprinted upon them at a young age.

Seeming to desire confining the Inquisition to the courtyard, more Ventori and their soldiers rained down on them from the upper levels of the keep. Cullen met them fearlessly, bashing one with his shield while striking out at another with his sword. A familiar smoky scent overrode that of the blood running at his feet as a warm body pressed against his back.

Hawke leaned against him heavily. "Cover me!" He busied himself with blocking another blow, keeping his shield angled over her while she uncorked a flask with her teeth and poured a potion down her throat.

"Good?" He called.

She nodded in response and dodged away again, leaving him to the remainder of the mages.

Peter had struck down more than his fair share of Tevinter supremacists though he appeared as if he was merely out for a stroll. The rogue leaned against the wall of the battlements above the gatehouse, several bodies bleeding out around him as he fired an arrow into the throng. Most of his attention was fixed to Cullen and Hawke, ensuring that the pair weren't surprised by those garishly clothed excuses for assassins. He thought he had taken care of most of them until one simply popped into existence beside him.

Despite his lackadaisical posture the Seeker sprung into action in the blink of an eye. Jumping back and away from the assassin, he freed two throwing knives from his belt and launched them at his foe. Surprisingly, they missed. Miffed that his skills were being challenged, Peter hooked his bow around a nearby sconce and drew another throwing knife in addition to a very large dagger. The assassin didn't wait for him to challenge him with any witty one-liners, much to the Seeker's disappointment, and simply struck out a series of blows against him with the needle-like weapons they carried in each hand. Belatedly he wondered where he could procure such things. He blocked the flurry of strikes easily with his vambraces, each blow resulting in a small blue flash as the clash made contact with his armor. Enough was enough.

He retaliated with precise and forceful jabs. One strike and the left hand buckled under the force of the blow, another left his right side open enough that a third blow pushed the whole of his very large dagger straight into the assassin's gut. He jerked his hand, drawing the blade across the midsection before using a booted foot to shove the body off of his weapon.

The Venatori staggered backwards, not seeming to understand the entrails he was leaving behind. His knees hit the low wall separating the high walkway from the courtyard below, and in his stupefied state he lost his balance and toppled over the edge.

Almost too late Peter realized the body's trajectory might crush someone below, and he hurried to peer over the wall, taking his bow in hand. He snapped the arrowhead off of the shaft with his teeth, aimed, and let the blunted bit of wood fly.

There was a yelp, followed by a quick jump, then the heavy thud of the Venatori's body.

"Who the fuck shot me in the ass!?" Hawke practically screeched, rubbing her backside with a horrified expression - like she'd never been shot with an arrow before.

Peter didn't see what the fuss was about. He blunted the strike and saved her from a rather undignified death despite probably leaving a few splinters in her bottom. Foolishly perhaps, he grinned down at her and raised his hand in a small wave.

"Here!"

Still cupping her abused bottom, she glared up at him. Suddenly Peter wasn't worried about the Venatori assassinating him, but Marian Hawke.

"How 'bout you get down here so I can return the favor?"

Baiting her was just too much fun, especially when she wielded enough sarcasm for the entire army.

"Promises, promises, Hawke!"

She snarled at him, looking for all the world like she was going to singe him into charcoal before Cullen stepped in.

"We can deal with Hawke's ass later. We have a fort to capture. Peter! Get to the upper level and help with the forward party. Hawke and I will meet you there."

Both Hawke and Peter rolled their eyes at Cullen, though Peter acquiesced and deftly scaled the scaffolding leading to the top most floor of the keep. Meanwhile, Hawke complained loudly about her superficial injury.

"Oh my god, there's blood!" She wailed, pulling her hand away from her bottom to reveal a more substantial amount of blood than Cullen initially guessed. She also had one pronounced limp. Perhaps she wasn't complaining without reason.

Heaving a small sigh, he resigned himself to his fate, stowed his shield, and held his hand out to her.

"Come on."

She looked dubiously at him, starting to walk under her own power before realizing she was not going to get very far very quickly without some help. Her ego was feeling a lot like her ass at the moment.

When she didn't respond immediately Cullen narrowed his eyes on her. "Or I can leave you here and send the guy who shot you in the ass down later to collect you if you don't want _my_ help."

"Damn it. Fine," she groused, allowing him to slip his arm around her waist.

Cullen didn't so much assist her as carry her up the steps, but she was grateful just the same. He was alway, and had ever been, a knight in shining armor - the kind of hero fairy tales were built around so little girls everywhere had some crazy perfect standard by which to hold all others. Despite her love for Fenris, Cullen has always been a subject of fascination for her, and perhaps once she had been enamored by his geniality toward her despite his knowing she was a mage. Sure, he was prickly as a bloody porcupine back then, but he had slowly begun to mellow out since the last she'd seen him. Evelyn was a damn good influence.

"Since we're alone," Hawke began suggestively, shamelessly wagging her eyebrows up at the Commander.

He bit back a groan at the thought of the questioning to come. Why couldn't she just leave well enough alone?

"Have you told her you loooove her?"

He scowled. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because it hasn't come up."

"So you do."

He had half a mind to drop her and leave her there, but revealed his answer through clenched teeth. "Y-yes. I think. I don't know."

Hawke's lips quirked upwards in a knowing smile. "You do. Don't think too hard about that shit or you'll lose time. Trust me, happened to me and it was a bitch."

Cullen seemed to relax a bit. "Fenris?"

"Mhm. This may come as a shock to you, Commander, but I'm a big dumb idiot when it comes to romance."

"That makes two of us," he replied, feeling comfortable enough to smirk at that.

"Have you kissed her?"

He immediately stiffened again, a flush creeping up from his neck and into his cheeks. "Ah...well…" He sighed. "Maker's breath. Yes."

"Aannnd?"

"Can we stop?"

"Yes, can we?"

Both Champion and Commander turned to find Peter shadowing them, nearly toppling over in their surprise like a pair of guilty schoolchildren.

The Seeker only fixed them with a steely gaze before walking past, leaving Cullen almost positive he was going to hear it when things had finally settled down. Here he was hoping to find time to write back to Evelyn.

Hawke snorted at Peter's attitude. "Well at least one person here is a gentleman!" She sniffed indignantly, poorly playing the part of a waspish noblewoman. Clearly she was pulling on some of her mother's failed attempts at teaching Marian manners.

Cullen didn't comment, but she forged on ahead and succeeded in making him even more uncomfortable.

"For the record, Cullen, if you were banging my sister, I'd be cheering you on."

In an instant the Commander turned a rather charming shade of red from his neck all the way to the very tips of his ears.

"Damn it, Hawke!"

* * *

><p>The keep was secured with no trouble at all aside from the initial battle. It was a defensible and sturdy fortress once held by the Grey Wardens who had named it Griffon Wing. The reiteration of the initials of both the names wasn't lost on him. In fact, he might have said it was a bit clever.<p>

Following the influx of the rest of the Inquisition's forces into the keep, Cullen had begged off from dinner with his men to find some peace. His own office, complete with _locking_ doors was certainly one thing he missed back at Skyhold - one of _two_. Unbidden and unwanted, his melancholy descended upon him with force as he looked out from the battlements to the empty desert. Night had fallen, and only the faint shimmer of the sand caused by the sliver of the moon established where land merged into sky. Maker, why did the color of the sky remind him of her eyes?

He had it bad. Really bad.

Cullen reached around his arm to unbuckle his gauntlets, thinking he might lose himself in the task of cleaning his bloodied armor when his bare thumb brushed over the enchantment Evelyn had placed. He drew in a sharp breath, having not expected the sudden shock of feeling her magic against his senses.

Hesitantly, he drew his fingers across it again, smiling faintly as he did. The sensation became familiar when he repeated the action once more.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Peter's voice drew him out of his reverie, and Cullen looked up with a small, forced smile.

"Want me to be honest or tell you what you want to hear?"

The Seeker raised his brows, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth.

"Let's go for honesty, since I trust you."

Cullen sighed audibly. "I miss her."

Surprisingly, given Peter's earlier behavior on the matter, he seemed remarkably relaxed at Cullen's admission.

"I do too." A pause. "Mind if I ask how this all came about?"

The Commander shrugged, turning to face the other man as he leaned his back against the stone wall behind him.

"I can't name the time or place." He smirked up at the Seeker. "Honestly."

Peter was a very astute man, and with just one look at Cullen while the Commander spoke of his sister he could tell he was smitten with her. Strange, he thought, that at first he'd thought they hated each other. Perhaps that was why he had been so shocked when Hawke threw Cullen under the carriage, so to speak.

"And what of her?"

"Well she didn't slap me when I kissed her, so I assume that means the attention was welcome."

Peter let out a short laugh, rubbing his jaw with the back of his hand. "She would have too, I think, had she not wanted you to."

They stood companionably for a small while before Cullen spoke next. "Here I thought I was going to be interrogated at knife point and warned away from your precious little sister."

"I could, if that would make you feel better, but I trust you Cullen. It goes without saying that if you do end up hurting my little sister I will be the very last thing you see."

The Commander scowled. "Fair warning, then."

His thumb brushed against the cool metal of his gauntlet again, and he took a small measure of comfort in the familiar wake of Evelyn's magic.

* * *

><p>"Where is that?"<p>

"Griffon Wing Keep?" Leliana asked, her expression indulgent as she gazed at the Inquisitor over the war table.

The Spymaster circled a location on the map of Orlais with her finger near the carefully written label stating "The Western Approach". She further explained the Inquisition's location by tapping the edge of her fingernail down on the edge of something called "The Abyssal Reach". That certainly didn't sound happy - or particularly safe.

"That's a long way away," Evelyn mumbled. Truthfully she was a little dismayed that Cullen was so far from home, but reminded herself that he wasn't some green recruit. The man could clearly take care of himself. Still…

"His report states that two days from the postmark he and Hawke will investigate the Wardens. Apparently they are to meet someone named Stroud." Cassandra's voice filled the room from where Cullen usually stood. "They seem to have also picked up your brother."

"Peter?" That seemed to perk Evelyn up, Cassandra noticed.

"Yes, Evelyn. He's going to return with them to Skyhold once their business is complete."

"Hopefully they finish up soon, then," She smiled to herself, keen on seeing her brother and having a chance to properly apologize to Cullen for her behavior. She couldn't bring herself to do it on paper. That just wasn't personal enough.

She had more trouble than usual sleeping that night, unable to shake the feeling of being watched. The sensation had grown in intensity since her arrival at Skyhold. After a year, things were finally getting...interesting - depending on your point of view.

Getting to her feet, she wrapped herself in her robe and headed down the stairs into the hall which was completely deserted at this hour but for Ferelden sleeping by the throne. The weight of the atmosphere had lifted considerably now that she had come down from her tower, and she was not keen on returning anytime soon.

Evelyn padded down the stretch of stone along the dark runner that flowed the length of the hall, veering off into the library where she spied Solas. The elf was still awake, and regarded her with some measure of surprise when she appeared at such a late hour.

"Good evening, my friend. Is there something I can help you with?"

As ever, despite his kindness and the fact that she really did like him, something about Solas didn't quite add up to her.

"I can't sleep." She paused a beat, considering whether she should be forthright with him on this matter. If anyone would understand her connection to the Fade, it would indeed be Solas. "Have you encountered many demons outside of the Fade having not possessed a body? Without a fade rift nearby, I mean," she added at his curious look.

"No, I can't say I have. What do you mean?"

She recounted her experiences with whatever had been inhabiting her room with her. By the time she was finished he wore a frown and, unusually so, looked concerned.

"You haven't taken any action against it?"

She flushed. She hadn't, but it wasn't for lack of trying. "I've tried to make contact in the Fade several times, but I can't seem to find it. That or it won't approach me, which doesn't even make sense. It keeps asking me the same question."

Solas cocked his head, seeming to consider something. "Sleep here tonight." He gestured to the couch on the far end of the room. "I will help you tomorrow when you are better rested. I think it would be wise to bring your father as well."

He handed her a folded blanket from beside the couch, snapping it out over her when she sat.

"I wish you would have come to me earlier about this, my friend."

She offered him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to having so many talented people around who actually understand me when I speak."

He smiled in return, nodding his head before moving off to his desk where he sat and resumed the book he had been pursuing. Still unable to sleep, Evelyn pulled out her own bit of reading material.

The parchment was well-worn from its journey, but the handwriting was legible.

_Evelyn_

_Your brother is fine company, but he isn't you._

_Yours,_

_Cullen_

His letter was just as brief as the one she had sent him, but the words he had written conveyed a very clear message to her.

I miss you, it said.

Same here, she thought with a small sigh.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm excited for the next chapter because we finally get to go to the Winter Palace! Aaaahhh! It's my favorite part of the entire game. **

**All fan-girling aside, I wanted to thank everyone for their reviews and continued support. I appreciate you all. A very, VERY special thank you to bushviper for our therapeutic little chat. :) Also, if anyone is interested, I have a bit of fan art I've created for this story. It's just a simple sketch of the armor I envision Cullen wearing in this story. Take a gander at it over on my profile.**

**Without further ado, here is the 11th installment of Enduring Knight! Please enjoy, friends!**

* * *

><p>She had been restless since she had turned him away. Evelyn lay awake, tossing and turning in her bed. Of course she was furious with him, but if she knew anything about Cullen and his behavior, it was that he never took any action unless it was absolutely justified. He commanded incredible self-discipline, and so it was with this in mind that she tried to puzzle what happened at the mine out.<p>

She was not an idiot; some empty-headed nattering fool who raged without cause and loved without reason. She was an intellectual, and demanded of herself an understanding of those around her.

Questions first, emotions later. It had been her mantra since Evan had died.

That being said, it was not as if she _didn't _feel anger, sadness, joy, or any other strong emotion. Obviously she did, but what purpose would raging against something already settled serve? It would serve no one. It would solve nothing.

She grumbled to herself and she rose from the mattress, swinging her feet over the side of her bed. If one wanted to understand, one had to ask questions.

She would seek out her father first. She didn't trust herself right now around Aaron.

Evelyn shuddered at the suffocating memory of his smite driving the magic from her body. Unprepared was one word to describe her reaction, though who was ever ready to be so...so violated? Magic flowed through her veins like her own blood. It was a part of her just as much as her hair and skin, and the mere thought that Aaron could cut her off so abruptly out of fear forced her to reexamine the nature of their relationship.

She loved her family, she thought as she padded down the stairwell from her quarters, but she had not seen many of them for some time. Aaron was so much older than her that they had little in common growing up. Despite the age difference, he had been an attentive and dutiful older sibling - at least until she had left for the Circle. It was strange to think that hindsight could be so vivid, as memories came to her in a rush of her first year of confinement.

She saw her father often enough, as he was then the acting Knight Commander. He had always hovered, and the others knew well enough to say not a word about it, but Aaron seemed to resent their familial ties. He would never say as much to either she or Evan, but they could feel their brother's affection drawing slowly away from them as time passed on and they came into their skills. Edward had trained elsewhere, moving to the Ostwick Circle only after their father had stepped down. He was kind, but held the firm demeanor of someone who had seen both the best and worst of magic. Peter...Peter had not taken well to the Circle or Templar training. She had heard some of the recruits saying that he was so liberal with his views of mage freedom that his trainer had nearly thrown him out on his ear for the way he defended their rights as people. Evelyn had long since come to terms with the reality of her situation, but Peter _never_ let go of his resentment of their father for shutting away his two youngest siblings. His anger had only intensified after Evan's death, at which time he abandoned the Order before taking his vows and had gone to train as a Seeker instead. As far as she knew, while Peter and her father still acted civil with one another, their difference in opinion left them strangers. They never mentioned their estrangement to her, and she was quite happy being ignorant of it and thinking that her family was still as she remembered it when she was a child.

But she had to face the reality that everything was no longer perfect. She was not the same, and her brothers were no longer the carefree, boisterous group of youths that had terrorized the countryside in Ostwick.

Then Michael…

Evelyn bit back a sob as tears welled up in her eyes. He'd only ever wanted to find his place in the world. That his quest to find himself would lead him to such a grisly death ate at her mercilessly. She knew there was little she could have done to dissuade him as they had not communicated since before she had left for the Conclave, but the guilt remained.

She had just entered the main hall, wiping the tears from her eyes when she heard a voice she was not prepared to listen to at present.

"Evie, it's late. What are you doing up?"

Aaron stood quietly near the door to the under-croft looking for all the world as if he _hadn't _assaulted his own sister. She scowled at him through her tears, ignoring his question as she moved to brush past him. Where was her father?

"Evie?" He reached out to pull her back, the gentleness of his touch belied his true feelings for her.

She quickly stepped away from him, heart beating in her ears. "Do not _touch _me!"

He looked almost taken aback by her reaction before he pursed his lips in a thin line. "Are you still angry?"

Still angry? _Still angry?_ She couldn't take it anymore. Everything this week leading up to this exact moment had finally culminated into some kind of massive, unalterable wave of hatred. The unease of Michael's affiliation with the Red Templars, the horrible situation at the d'Onterre mansion, Cullen's kiss, those poor people in Sahrnia who needed their help, her brother's death, Aaron's betrayal, and then her guilt over pushing away the one person who could have given her answers had she been level-headed enough to ask, welled up inside of her like a great storm and she could not hold it back.

Aaron, sensing the sudden call of her magic had attempted to smite her yet again, which only fueled her anger. One could only imagine his surprise when she blocked the voiding spell with her barrier - something she did not think she could do until now.

Very quickly her brother's look of consternation morphed into that of fear as she reached deeper into the Fade for even more power to fuel her rage.

"Evelyn." Her father's voice rang out from beside her with a gentleness that did not align with the charged atmosphere inside the room.

The tapestries on the walls shuddered from the force of her power, chairs rattling on the floor loud enough to wake all of Skyhold.

She narrowed her eyes on Aaron, unable to decide how exactly she wanted to punish him for his complete lack of feeling.

"Evelyn," Lord Trevelyan spoke again, placing a hand on her shoulder. The gentle touch jarred her somewhat, but it was enough that she saw - _really saw _- the terror on her brother's face.

Maker, this wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't who she was at all.

Slowly, the furniture stopped moving, the tapestries stilled, and the storm of magic she had stood at the center of faded. She and Aaron stood still a moment, just looking at one another before she blew out a tense breath and turned, walking pointedly away from the scene.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry, she chanted to herself, breaking into a run for the Chantry as tears began to fall. When she had vanished, Lord Trevelyan turned on his eldest son with wrath in his eyes.

"Leave her be. She's dealing with enough without your paranoia rearing its ugly head."

Aaron had the indecency to look offended. "Paranoia? Did you see what she was going to do to me?"

"No. I saw someone who was emotionally overwrought and attempting to give you no less than you deserved. A fellow Templar would have broken your damned nose over that, Aaron."

"She could have killed me!"

He took a threatening step toward his son, hand on his sword grip. "Save it, boy. You've provoked me enough for one day."

Thoroughly chastened, though still a little irked by the censure, Aaron bowed stiffly to his father and made way for the barracks.

That was one reason Adair had passed his eldest over for the position of Knight Commander in Ostwick. The boy was simply too hot-headed and irrational to hold such power over so many lives.

Pushing his annoyance for Aaron aside, he quickly focused on finding Evelyn. That outburst had been extremely uncharacteristic for her, though she was completely justified in her anger. If she wanted to take a shot at Aaron he would be more than happy to stand by and let her, though judging from what he'd sensed moments before he doubted the boy would be able to defend himself very well.

All anger aside, he was finding this strife difficult to bear. It seemed as if his family was falling apart, and he'd no one to blame but himself. If he'd been a better father perhaps Michael and Evan would still be alive.

He quickly shoved that guilt down, unable to deal with it now. The horrific pain of losing a child was bad enough, but to be the cause…? It was a wonder some days he could look in the mirror let alone live with himself. As a Templar he did not take his responsibility lightly. He had sworn his heart and soul to the Chantry to protect the innocent from harm, but at what cost? How many more of his children would he have to kill before the Maker was satisfied? His god's silence was cruel.

Adair found Evelyn in the small Chantry. Upon seeing him she launched into a swathe of apologies. She didn't mean to frighten Aaron, she didn't want to disappoint him, she had been remiss in her duties and was a terrible daughter. He didn't want to hear any of it. Enough was enough.

Lord Trevelyan simply wrapped his daughter in a tight hug, holding her against him like he used to do when she was a child and he wept silently with her at how screwed up everything was, had been, and probably would be.

Puffy-eyed and grumpy as a wet nug, Evelyn wandered over to Cassandra in the training yard after the sun had risen. She and her father had a long talk - about Michael mostly. Lord Trevelyan had found Michael after the fighting had subsided only by identifying the small pin of the Trevelyan coat of arms on his armor and his family ring. By then her brother had been beyond help despite the Red Lyrium that had begun to take over his body. Speaking of it was painful, but necessary, and by the end of it they'd both felt emotionally exhausted. He looked old, she thought as she managed a smile for a soldier she'd passed on her way. It was with some dismay she realized she would not have him with her forever.

"You did not sleep. _Again_." Cassandra observed when Evelyn came into view. She sheathed her sword, turning on the Inquisitor with a frown, though it was borne of concern quite unlike the frowns she bestowed upon Varric.

Evelyn sighed, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand. "No. I didn't. It's been a long week."

Cassandra's eyes softened, though the frown was still in place. She knew Evelyn's feelings precisely in that moment. She'd felt them herself after Anthony's passing.

What the Inquisitor needed was something to take her mind off of it for a while. She needed a purpose.

"Come. I need to sort through Cullen's things. I believe he was in possession of a notice from Grand Duke Gaspard."

"Cousin to the Empress of Orlais?"

Evelyn's innate curiosity was already shifting her thoughts to the task at hand, Cassandra noted with approval.

"The same. I believe the Inquisition may benefit from an alliance with him."

A short while later the two women found themselves inside Cullen's office sifting through a ridiculously high stack of parchment.

"How he manages to go through all of this in a timely fashion is beyond me," Evelyn observed while leafing through one stack.

Cassandra began to move another when she knocked a book off of the laden desk. Moving to retrieve it from the floor, she was surprised when a bit of parchment fell from between the pages adorned with Evelyn's name.

Really thinking nothing of it, the Seeker handed the paper to Evelyn who stiffened immediately upon reading its contents.

The letter had said nothing her father hadn't already explained, Evelyn reflected when she had finished, but it was very kind of Cullen to try and set matters straight and try to elaborate on matters he thought she would find most important. Considerate as always.

At first she hadn't understood why Cullen would keep her away from her brother. She had been angry with him, furious even, but after she had finally worked everything out between her father's explanation and Cullen's letter she knew he'd held her interests at heart.

She was still nursing a bit of upset over his role, but how could someone fault such sincere motives? She'd much rather keep the focus of her ire on Aaron anyway. He was the true perpetrator in this mess. Everything else...everything else had been the result of horrible timing and circumstance - and that was no one's fault.

"What did it say?" Cassandra asked, pulling her out of her reverie.

Evelyn's smile was small and tired, but it was genuine. "It's an apology."

* * *

><p>She devoured the book Cullen had left her with the letter. Evelyn had always hungered for knowledge. She'd forever been fascinated with history as well. Curiously, though, the Circle libraries she'd been to had never contained many volumes on Thedosian history. There had been plenty of books on Andraste, commentaries on the Maker, or excerpts from journals of those who had seen or experienced His divine will. There had never been anything at all on Chantry history aside from the few passages about Andraste herself.<p>

Now having finished the book about the second Exalted March, she could well understand why. Reading this - an almost glowing report from a Templar on the front lines - made her feel sick to her stomach. While the elves certainly were not entirely innocent in the affair of Red Crossing, did they really deserve such blind persecution? Was that the Maker's will? Did he accept the cruelty dealt out with frightening efficiency to innocent men, women, and children?

Evelyn frowned to herself as she placed the book back on its shelf in Cullen's office. There was another beside it, the title informing her that it was a continuation of the first. She ran her fingers along the worn leather spine, hesitating to pick it up.

Did she want to know more? Already she had begun to doubt the sincerity of the Chantry's motives over the last few ages. The timeline for this book was more recent. Would she find herself as equally disappointed? Moreover, what did Cullen think of it? The book was his, after all, and he'd deliberately set it aside for her to read.

Perhaps she should ask him. They had always enjoyed candid discussions on a myriad of topics, and if anyone would give her a straight answer or an unapologetic opinion, it would be Cullen. The man did not pull punches with his beliefs, and she supposed that was one of the reasons she had grown so fond of him. They could have a difference in opinion and want to shake each other silly, but in the end they would always respect one another.

Surely he would understand her desire to discuss the subject with him.

Plucking the second volume from the shelf, Evelyn flopped down into the Commander's chair and searched for his writing implements. Cassandra, by her own admission, was terrible at writing reports and orders, and had left the majority of her written communications in Leliana's capable hands.

She stared at the parchment before her, frowning as she tried to decide on how to begin. Idly, she turned Michael's ring around on her thumb. The weight of the iron and the etching of running horses along the band served as a comfort to her just as Evan's phylactery did. Two brothers lost now, and although she could still taste the sorrow bitter on her tongue, she was glad that she had something to remember them by - even if they were only trinkets.

Again she thought of Cullen, a smile forming unconsciously on her lips. Her humble, thoughtful, and kind friend was as close to perfect as any mortal had a right to be. While he could lose his temper, and was more often grumpy than not, the Commander was an old and gentle soul. And then…

She brushed the feathered end of the quill against her lips, remembering the feeling of his mouth gently leading hers in a kiss. The feeling of it still lingered as if it were branded onto her skin. Had she snuffed out the possibility of more before she'd ever gotten the chance with her behavior? Would he forget about that night by the time he returned?

Leliana had mentioned that it may take their forces several months before the Inquisition had secured the Western Approach. There was so much to be done that Cullen had needed to go out with them despite Hawke's insistence on his presence. The thought of having to wait to see him for an indeterminable length of time caused her to fidget nervously. There was so much she needed to say.

Deciding that nothing could be done about that for now, she began to scrawl the beginnings of her letter to him in earnest, desiring to keep at least one avenue of communication open between them.

* * *

><p><em>...and so I find myself removed from my previous notions regarding the Chantry's military might. While I respect the Templars and their sacrifices - you know this - I cannot help but think that the upper echelons of our world are ignorant of those beneath them. Is a peasant's suffering not equal to that of a nobleman? What does a tithe or an indulgence have anything to do with eternal salvation? Last I checked one could not simply buy their way to the Maker's side, but it seems the Chantry is doing nothing to quell these blasphemous institutions. Instead they worry themselves sick over the stability of the Circles and tax the life out of their believers to fund their lavish lifestyles. <em>

_I did some research into this matter with the help of Dorian and Leliana. Needless to say that my concerns are founded, but this is all so much to take in._

_I feel impossibly sheltered from this political side to my faith. Have things always been so backwards? I need your insight on this matter. If nothing else, it will make me feel a little better having your knowledge at hand should I approach my father about this._

_I wish you were here so I could speak more in depth with you, but I fear this will have to do. Please don't allow Hawke to drag you into anything unnecessarily dangerous. Varric has been telling some rather impossible stories as of late, and I cannot tell what parts are embellished and which are true._

_Evelyn_

Cullen snorted at the last part of Evelyn's letter, not finding that surprising in the least.

"Something funny, Altar Boy?" Hawke's voice drifted over from where she rode beside him.

"Will you never cease with that moniker? Even Curly is better."

She grinned. "Quit bitching. It's too early for your bad attitude."

Amber eyes rolled as a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "It's _always_ too early for you, Hawke."

"Clearly because I'm just too much fun."

Although Cullen had resigned himself to being perpetually exasperated around her, he couldn't help the small chuckle her words elicited from him

"That's certainly one way to say it, I suppose."

She didn't say anything else for quite a while, regarding him with an expression he couldn't decipher.

"You hardly slept at all last night, Cullen. Is doing this today wise?"

The old crumbling fort was coming into view now. Anticipation threaded through his veins at the possibility of learning what the Wardens were up to out here - the Venatori, too. Oddly, enough reports had been laid in his hands speaking of the two somehow working together that he'd decided to make tracking down the Wardens a priority.

"I've been living with this for a while now. I will be fine." His clipped reply only caused her to narrow her eyes at him.

He knew that look.

She wasn't finished with him yet.

"Cullen-"

"Leave the man alone, Hawke. You're not his mother." Peter interrupted her, but his voice was gentle.

Surprised, Cullen looked up to meet the Seeker's pointed gaze. Was there anything Peter _didn't _know? Well, perhaps he didn't and simply thought Cullen was ill. Still…

"I'm fine. Let's just find Stroud and see what the Wardens have been up to."

His tone left no room for argument. The Commander of the Inquisition was done talking.

"He said he'd be up in this direction," Hawke replied, passing a furtive look toward Peter.

"So Erimond is a dick." Peter groused between mouthfuls of water as he, Hawke and Cullen sat on top of the battlements back at Griffon Wing Keep.

That was the understatement of the year, Cullen thought, still trying to scrape demon bile from between the metal scales of his armor. Magister Erimond was working with the Venatori in an attempt to take over the Grey Wardens of Orlais. Apparently the first step was ensuring that all of the Warden mages were sufficiently bound to demons. The very thought made his skin crawl.

The shudder that wracked his body preceded a cold sweat which, given the intensity of the setting sun, was actually welcome. He tried his hardest to keep his hand steady as he made to scrape the scales again, but the implement he was using skid off the armor and lodged itself in his opposite hand

"Maker!" He growled, quickly placing the wound in his mouth to keep more gore from splashing onto the plate.

Peter pressed a clean rag into Cullen's hands with a small smile. "I hear the tremors can be really irritating," He said conversationally.

Truth was, Peter had known Cullen was off of Lyrium since the moment they'd met. In fact, it was because of his intentional distance from Templar control that he'd even allowed the Commander near his sister. He didn't trust the Templars, and he trusted blessedly few Circle representatives. If for some reason Cullen had still been affiliated with the Order, he would have persuaded Evelyn to leave the Inquisition after Therinfal.

Much like Cassandra, Peter's talent dealt with manipulating the Lyrium inside of a person's body - mage or Templar. Though he'd only used it in emergencies, he had been more than prepared to unleash it on Cullen were he a threat to Evelyn. That was until he discovered the man had barely any Lyrium in his veins to justify using his talent. The discovery was jarring at first, but he then recalled something Edward had said about the Inquisition's Commander being a Templar who'd broken away from the Order. In hindsight, that alone was probably when he started liking the man.

Cullen blew out a frustrated sigh, regarding Peter with a mix of irritation and resignation. There was no point in dancing around the issue now. "They are. Especially when I'm in the middle of writing a report."

He nodded. "So it's been what, a little over a year since you quit?"

"Yes. My last dose was on the day Cassandra recruited me to the cause." A fond smile passed over Cullen's features as he said this. The man clearly enjoyed his work, and if Peter didn't know better he would have said the Commander was in love with his job rather than the Inquisitor.

"What does it feel like?"

"Shit." Cullen stated simply, checking his hand to ensure the bleeding had stopped before resuming the work on his armor. "It doesn't appeal to everyone. Maker, it doesn't even appeal to me, but I said I was going to do it so I will endure." Though he didn't know if there was going to really _be_ an end to the perpetual _want_ that bullied his body day and night. "I don't go back on my word."

Hawke smiled a little at Cullen's vehement explanation and at the missive she had just received via Josephine from Skyhold. "Ah yes, well the Inquisition's Enduring Knight is going to either love or hate his ambassador when I explain her plans for him regarding a certain ball for a certain empress."

Cullen blanched, winced, and the pleading look in his eyes only made her grin widen. "What has she done?"

"Tell me, Commander, do you know how to dance?"

"No." He narrowed his eyes in a frown. "And I refuse to learn. It's a waste of time. Why?"

Hawke straightened away from the wall, a wince betraying her still damaged behind. "Josephine is requesting that you make a concentrated effort on learning at least one dance. Apparently the Inquisition has been called to the Winter Palace by invitation of Grand Duke Gaspard."

"Why is Josephine telling you this?"

She snorted. "I imagine she assumes I know something about it already, since you _should _have opened your mail from her earlier. Instead you were too busy reading Evelyn's letter."

Her eyebrows wagged suggestively.

"Enlighten me then, oh deductive one."

Cullen was curious now, though his tight-lipped smile belied his stiff posture. Idly, she wondered why he was so adverse to the idea of learning a waltz or two. Was he so afraid of being embarrassed?

"She would like me to teach you while we are here, because she wishes you to be Evelyn's escort. I don't think your ambassador or spymaster are quite comfortable with the idea of letting the Grand Duke parade the Inquisitor around like a prize. You know, high opinions, the game, all of that other bullshit I can't be bothered with."

He sighed. "Why does that even matter? People know how strong the Inquisition is by our deeds."

Peter nodded, seeing his point. "But consider that Gaspard may have ulterior motives inviting the Inquisitor to such an event knowing full well that he is in the middle of a civil war with Celene over the throne. Do you remember the plot we discovered at Therinfal? This might have something to do with it."

That seemed to get the Commander's attention. "If it means keeping Evelyn out of harm's way, then I will do it."

Hawke laughed, placing a hand over her mouth to try and conceal her mirth when Cullen shot her a withering glare.

"Don't look so put out, Altar Boy. A lot of women find dancing with a handsome man awfully romantic."

"And how would you know that?"

She punched his arm, which actually smart quite a bit, before thrusting the letter Josephine had written on top of the armor in his lap. "I'll have you know I'm a pretty good dancer, and I had Sebastian Vael as a teacher so that definitely puts me one up on you, mister."

"Ha!" Peter guffawed. "A Starkhavener taught you to dance? Maker have mercy. Your waltz must look stiff as a dead nug."

"Oh?" Hawke bristled at his tone, but rose to the challenge he posed. "Care to show me how men from Ostwick take a turn about the ballroom?"

She faked her best simper to which Cullen rolled his eyes. Nearly three months with her and he was glad they hadn't gotten stuck he'd employed the maneuver so often.

Peter grinned, the expression rather wolfish. "I accept your challenge, Serrah Hawke."

* * *

><p>When she had awoken that night she expected to hear the same words she had grown so accustomed to this past year. Evelyn did <em>not<em> expect to see the inky black mass hovering over her bed, the dark shape undulating and floating formlessly in the air. It would make her a liar if she said she wasn't surprised by it. In fact, she had been terrified.

They watched each other for a while, and though the thing didn't have any eyes that she could see she sensed it was paying very close attention to her. Spirit, demon, something else - she had no idea what this thing was. She had never encountered it before, but it felt dangerous despite not having harmed her for quite some time.

"Hello?" She tried, finding a strength in her words that she did not feel.

A flurry of sound surrounded her, whispering words she could not discern until those three words found their way into her ears once again.

_Let me in._

Absolutely not, she thought, and in a moment of anger and resolve she pushed away from her mattress and fled her room to the main hall. She'd eventually ended up in the library rotunda with Solas where he had convinced her to finally confront the problem.

Now she stood in the middle of her chambers with the travel-wizened elf while her father walked slowly around the perimeter of the room. They had both decided it would be wise to have him close at hand should they encounter a demon, though Solas had always been more than capable deflecting their assaults in the field. She suspected he knew more than he let on about this situation, but at the same time not enough that he would trust his own skills alone in dealing with such a matter should it get out of hand.

It was a mystery to her. He never divulged any of his secrets. Maybe she was still a bit miffed that he'd refused to teach her how to really _see_ the Fade as he did. While she could manipulate the dream world easily, she did not possess the knowledge to view memories and feelings trapped in the Fade. She could only perceive what was immediate and present, which usually led to many an enlightening encounter with a spirit and the occasional demon.

"How long has this been going on, did you say?" Adair interrupted her reverie, snapping her attention back to the present with an embarrassed flush.

"Longer than I'd like to admit. Since before the fall of Haven."

He frowned, beginning another circuit around the space with his hand placed on his sword grip. It was a nervous gesture of his - of most Templars, actually. Cullen had a habit of it as well, though she suspected the Commander was completely aware of how intimidating it looked in the middle of a heated conversation or while giving orders to his men.

"You are correct, my friend. This feeling I have does possess the hallmarks of a demonic presence, but as for why it is in your room and why we cannot physically see it is beyond me."

Adair paused a moment, passing close to the bed and making a small disgruntled noise in the back of his throat.

"That would be because mages are not familiar with this kind of summoning," the ex Knight Commander spoke quickly, kneeling down and disappearing beneath the bed.

Evelyn blinked, leaning down to peer under the four poster to see what on Thedas her father was doing. Solas mirrored her actions.

Adair emerged a short while later, holding up a small, flat silver medallion. Turning in about in his fingers as he stood.

"This," he began, "is a form of demon summoning unique to the Templar Order. It's the same kind of calling we place when a mage is to take their Harrowing."

Evelyn blinked. She'd always assumed the demons came of their own accord. "What?"

"Before a mage is taken into the Harrowing chamber the Knight to stand vigil over the apprentice must call forth a demon so it is present at the proper time."

"Ensuring that a test will always be taken," Solas elaborated, a hard edge to his voice.

"Maker." Evelyn breathed. "It's summoned into the fount isn't it? The one we drink the Lyrium from before…"

"Yes. The same. It's so mage and demon have a proper connection for the trial. No outside interference."

"So the Templars…"

"Are hypocrites? Absolutely. This is a fine example." He held up the medallion between his thumb and fore finger. "This trinket has a demon attached to it. The reason you only seem to encounter it in your sleep or while you're in bed is because it was placed beneath the mattress."

"And the reason I can't confront it in the Fade is because it doesn't actually inhabit it anymore."

He nodded, expression growing grim.

"What enemy have you made in a Templar, love? This is very strictly confined to the Templar Order."

She could think of only one person.

"His name is Teague. He is no longer here, though. Cullen tossed him out."

"Just as well," Solas commented. "That man was a danger to all mages in the Inquisition."

Evelyn couldn't help but agree. The man was dangerous.

"You're sure he wasn't working with anyone else?" Her father pressed. "This was intended to stay here for a long time. It's not to simply scare you. Long periods of exposure can lead to possession."

Evelyn blanched. "They were trying to feed me to a demon?" She shook her head, a chill skating up her arms. "I think he was working on his own."

Adair nodded, some dark emotion passing across his features before he tucked the trinket away within the folds of his robe. "I will destroy this. If the nightmares persist there may be more, but I'm fairly certain this is the only one."

She nodded, turning to Solas who looked like he'd just eaten something particularly bitter.

"Trust the Chantry to adopt an Elvhen ritual and pervert it so they can better persecute mages."

Adair ignored his words, not wishing to argue the truth of that statement despite his personal feelings on the reasoning for such actions.

That night when she retired Evelyn had noticed the change in the atmosphere. The space felt lighter and less oppressive. Ferelden had even deigned to join her in bed, now at ease in her rooms.

She was ecstatic at the prospect of getting a good night's rest in a proper bed. As it happened, she could only get particularly restful sleep when she was out on the road.

Unable to suppress a squeal of delight she jumped onto the bed and rolled over onto her back. Ferelden regarded her with thinly veiled exasperation.

"What?" She said to the Mabari. "You've been sleeping cozy in the throne room for weeks while I've had to share this room with a demon. Excuse me for feeling a little liberated."

A soft _whuff_ escaped him before he curled around himself and settled in for the night.

While she was pleased to not have anymore interrupted nights, Evelyn was too excited to sleep. She reached over to the nightstand and took up another of Cullen's books, intending on learning a bit more about siege tactics before the night was out.

* * *

><p>Cullen was fairly certain he'd not fallen asleep in a sunny field of dandelions. In fact, he was pretty sure the oak leaves he was staring up into were also a figment of his imagination. Strange, he thought. He didn't recognize this place from his dreams. He was never so lucky to dream something so pleasant.<p>

He could vaguely remember that the withdrawals that day had been particularly trying, and so it was under Hawke's order and Rylen's insistence that he take a day to rest. Cullen was, by his very nature, not the restful type. Sitting idle had nearly driven him to wits end, but not before he had poured over his armor three or four times to check for damage, dirt, the odd grain of sand that would make that horrible noise when he walked.

He had paused upon inspecting his gauntlets, as he always did, brushing his fingers against the enchantment there. A contented sigh left his lips at the feeling of Evelyn's magic brushing across his senses. Through the worst of his symptoms away from Skyhold, this had become his vice - almost a ritual of sorts to calm his nerves and clear his head.

"Oh...hello."

The familiar voice had him sitting bolt upright.

_No. No, no, no, no._

If this was a nightmare like all of the others, he needed to wake up now. He refused to have them pervert her too.

A whimper nearly escaped him when amber eyes fixed on blue, and he saw her there sitting in the sunlight like some kind of ethereal being. Maker, she was beautiful.

Please don't ruin her too, he thought desperately.

Evelyn cocked her head, curious at Cullen's wide-eyed expression - or at least what appeared to be Cullen. She didn't sense a spirit or a demon, and yet sharing one's dreams was a very rare occurrence. Even among mages it was incredibly rare. Could this actually be…? No...

"Stay away from me," he bit out, expression shifting from one of fear to one of anger.

Immediately she held up her hands. "I'm sorry. I will not touch you."

She, it, whatever it was sat some distance away, looking at him with curiosity. This was normally not how these kinds of dreams began. It threw him for a loop and intensified his unease. He did not want Evelyn's image to be brought into this realm of fear and hate. He wouldn't be able to look at her in the same way.

Very slowly he drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees while leaning back against the tree. He was hiding, protecting himself.

Evelyn was terribly curious. "Would you feel better if…" She thought a moment, grasping blindly now. "...if perhaps we exchanged information? I'll tell you something I'm sure Cullen doesn't know about me."

Diplomatic. Whatever this was had done some digging around in his head. Still, the offer was tantalizingly straight forward, and it hadn't made a move yet. Patience was not something desire demons were necessarily known for.

Seeing no immediate way out, he would acquiesce for the moment. "I'll bite. I will not offer the same in exchange." There was no way he would feed it more information.

"That's fine." Her voice was calm and soothing, like she was speaking to a frightened child. She let the silence hang around them for a moment, choosing carefully what she would say lest this image be some form of Fade trickery with which we was not yet familiar.

"I love your hands."

The utterly perplexed look that crossed his features caused her to laugh. Oh dear, she didn't mean to make him uncomfortable.

"What?"

"I love your hands." She gestured to where his bare hands clasped together in front of his knees. "Sometimes, at the war table, I'm tempted to ask you to take off your gloves so I can see them." She blushed at that admission, having a feeling that perhaps that was going too far. Again, she didn't sense that what was before her was a spirit or a demon. It felt distinctly Cullen.

He hastily pulled his hands out of sight and hid them in his lap, pinning her with a glare.

Alright. Definitely not the right thing to say. Maker, she'd never had to convince someone she was herself before.

"What could I do to get you to trust me - to believe that I'm, well, me?"

If possible, his glare deepened. "You'll get nothing from me. If you know me so well, you will figure it out. Evelyn is intelligent enough to come up with something, if you really are her."

He absolutely did not sound convinced.

They sat for a long time looking at one another. His angry eyes bored into her curious ones, and it took some time before she got the spark of an idea.

"You're the only person I know who doesn't get uncomfortable when I do this," she began. Then, slowly, she relaxed her hold on her power, allowing it to surround her as she had all those months ago in the ballroom at Skyhold.

His recognition showed immediately in his eyes, though he was still anxious by the looks of it.

"How?" It was her! He would know her magic anywhere. If it was a demon he would sense something different altogether. Wouldn't he?

She shrugged, looking a little sheepish "I don't know. This," she gestured between the two of them, "happens so rarely that it is very poorly documented. I've only experienced it once before with Evan."

"What does it mean?" He asked, beginning to relax somewhat, though he was still wary.

She couldn't really blame him. Did anyone fully trust what they dreamed?

Evelyn blushed. "That I've just thoroughly embarrassed myself in front of you."

"Wha-oh. The hands."

She groaned, smacking her palm against her forehead. "Can we forget I ever said that?"

He couldn't help it. He laughed. "Why would I want to do that?"

"To show mercy on me, clearly. I was in a hurry for something convincing to say." She made to move toward him, but she stopped when he visibly tensed. He still didn't trust himself. This was so strange. "This has something to do with what happened at Kinloch Hold, doesn't it?"

Cullen blew out a sigh. "Yes. It does. A, ah...desire demon tried to tempt me with someone that I..." He hesitated. "...Someone that I cared for very much." Did a pretty damn good job of it too, he remembered bitterly.

For some reason that lame explanation caused a tentative smile to grace her pretty features. What for, he wondered? Mentally running over his comment in his head he suddenly froze at the implication he hadn't intended, a furious blush staining his cheeks.

"What I mean is-. I meant to say-. Maker." He sighed, bringing up a hand to rub absently at the back of his neck.

Evelyn flushed. "It's alright, Cullen. I know you didn't mean it like that."

What? No! He absolutely did mean it like that! If she was even real, he mused.

"Didn't mean it like what?" He asked, trying to regain some of his equilibrium by feigning ignorance. He knew exactly what she was referring to. Perhaps he just wanted to hear her say it.

She looked sheepish, uncomfortable, and impossibly attractive as she struggled to answer. "That you care for me."

Well, demon or sun-induced insanity, here it went.

"I do care for you."

To his surprise, all tension seemed to drain out of her and she bestowed him with a smile that made his lips twitch in response. No...this couldn't be a demon - not with an infectious smile like that.

"Come here." He may regret this, he thought as he leaned forward to take her hand and tug her closer to him. She settled down beside him, leaning against his shoulder with another infectious grin.

"I have so much to tell you," Evelyn began excitedly as the pair fell back into their comfortable dynamic.

She told him everything: what she'd done to Aaron the night after he had left, the medallion her father had found, how they thought Teague might have been responsible for its presence. She'd also spent a fair amount of time out in the field recruiting more agents for the Inquisition. The relief work had nearly been completed in the Hinterlands, she told him, and the villagers there had sworn themselves to the Inquisition's cause. Apparently she had also met a dragon.

"_Met_ a dragon?" Cullen asked with some skepticism. This was a dream, after all.

She nodded emphatically, excitement brightening the impossibly blue color of her eyes.

"It was the most amazing thing! You see, earlier in the day Bull wasn't paying attention to where he was walking and stepped right on me. I had the most awful muscle pull of my life. So here I was trying to walk off the worst of it once we'd made camp. I was headed down into this shallow cave, intending to turn around and walk right back when it opened up into this secret valley. Curious, I looked around for a bit before I realized I was being watched. All I felt was this really hot wind blast down from above me. When I looked up, I saw her."

Evelyn's eyes practically sparkled.

"She was beautiful! All different colors of scales, and this _huge_ head with horns bigger than Bull's. She just perched there on the ledge above me and watched. I was so nervous I had froze, but she didn't seem too aggressive. I imagine she was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. After a while she settled down on the rock, and I hurried off to tell Cassandra."

"Let me guess," Cullen spoke, scratching the stubble on his jaw with a grin, "she was angry you wandered off on your own."

"Oh absolutely!"

He laughed at her complete disregard for their poor Seeker's wits.

"But I would do it again, even if it meant listening to another of her overprotective tirades," she said.

He raised one pale brow at her statement, a smirk evident at the corner of his mouth. "I think she deserves the overprotective tirade, Evelyn. I probably would have done the same."

She grinned. "Still completely worth it. I've never seen a dragon before. I've only read about them in books."

Cullen lifted a hand, brushing the backs of his knuckles down her cheek. "You're positively incorrigible." And he admired her endlessly, he thought.

Her eyes flew to his, her expression unreadable before her mouth softened into an adoring smile which he could only mirror as they sat there in the strange dreams cape, his thumb brushing idly over her cheekbone.

"I get that a lot," Evelyn breathed, gaze flitting down to his mouth. "Cullen, about that night you left. I'm sorry I-"

The pad of his thumb brushed against her lower lip.

"Don't apologize. I understand."

"Do you know when you're coming come?"

He smiled at that. Home. With her. That was definitely something he was looking forward to.

"After the ball at the Winter Palace. That's the earliest I can return."

She frowned. "So long? That's several months away."

Evelyn was already being fitted for a suitable gown. All the while she'd been threatened by the seamstress and Josephine to not overindulge lest she be unable to fit into the garment when the time came. She hated fittings, she reflected with a grumble.

"Disappointed?"

"Obviously. I miss speaking with you. I miss you."

Cullen pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I miss you too." He ghosted his lips against hers as he spoke, sending a pleasant shiver down the column of her spine.

"Cullen!"

He pulled back with a frown, unwilling to remove his hands from Evelyn.

"Cuuullleeennn!" The voice said again, distorted inside this place.

Gradually the dream scape of the Fade gave way to the canvas top of his tent and Hawke's concerned face hovering far too close to his own.

He raised a hand to wave her off of him. "Maker, what's wrong with you? I was sleeping."

"Yeah? Well you've been sleeping for the last ten hours."

He blinked. "What?"

"Yeah. Here." she shoved a water skin into his hands as he sat up. "You need to drink."

Cullen frowned, eyeing the light of dawn beginning to brighten the sky.

"Good dream? You haven't slept that soundly since you've been out here."

He regarded her out of the corner of his eye a moment before smiling in a way that surprised the Champion. It was honest, boyish, and made him look years younger. "A very good dream."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So this was supposed to be a short fluffy break from the story. It's now the longest chapter I've ever written. Yay (?)! Just a heads up that I've taken several liberties with the dialogue in the Wicked Eyes Wicked Hearts quest, and also please note that the Halla statues have been scaled down for obvious reasons when you run into that. End of chapter NSFW just to be safe. Not a lot happens in this installment. It's intended to be fun and focus on the romance developing between Cully Wully and Evelyn. I hope everyone is as turned on by Evie's Senior Enchanter face as I am. :D Also, new songs up on the playlist. Theme for this beast is Florence + the Machine - Drumming Song.**

**Rambling aside, thank you all again for the awesome reviews! I wouldn't keep writing this monstrosity without them! Please enjoy!**

* * *

><p>This entire plan was turning into a shit show. First that damned woman, not a battle-hardened bone in her body, survives Haven. Fuck, he'd brought the roof of a tavern down on top of her! Second, even with Corypheus himself present, she had managed to slip through their fingers so easily.<p>

He didn't even want to dwell on that angry message Teague had shared with him from their Lord. Needless to say Corypheus was gunning for another attempt at the Inquisitor's life, though perhaps now in a more subtle fashion.

Samson was no stranger to subterfuge. In fact, he'd made a bit of a living sneaking about, selling information, and lying through his crooked teeth. It was easy when one had a large enough incentive, and the consistent doses of Lyrium were more than adequate payment for him after the shit he'd been through with Meredith and the Order in Kirkwall.

He watched Evelyn Trevelyan laugh in the courtyard with a gaggle of small children and, although he felt some twinge of regret, was assured the life of one rather useless and troublesome woman could simply not compare to the lives he would change once she and the Inquisition were out of the way. Her dalliance with Cullen only made his job easier. There would be a new world order, he thought with a grin, and he would finally be paid his due.

He sealed the letter he had been writing with clipped, efficient movements and tied the small strip of parchment to the leg of a tawny-colored falcon.

_En route to Halamshiral in three days time._

_Notify Shadow_

They needed this plan to work. If it failed, the Red Templars would have to resort to far more invasive and drastic measures. The blasted Herald of Andraste was more resilient than she appeared, and now they'd found Teague's medal. He was certain Lord Trevelyan knew something was amiss. He'd barely let his daughter out of his sight when she was within Skyhold's walls. Outside, she was under the protection of that damned Qunari and had even begun to take that damnable Grey Warden with her.

He took a steadying breath, willing his anger to subside. Shadow wouldn't fail. She had too much to lose to if she did.

* * *

><p>"I just-" Evelyn spun around on the small foot stool, trying to keep eye contact with her ambassador. "Josephine, this really <em>is<em> too much skin! I'll be attracting attention for all of the wrong reasons."

Josephine narrowed her cat-like eyes on the Inquisitor. "Stop grousing Evelyn. You look radiant. Besides," she spoke as she moved forward to adjust a piece of the crinoline that needed to be pinned back, "this design was your father's idea. It's traditional for a grand event such as this."

The Inquisitor wished he hadn't bothered to get involved.

"Josie, honestly, can't we just stitch up this-"

"Absolutely not. It adds to the character of the entire ensemble."

Evelyn cast a pleading look over her shoulder at Leliana who merely stood against the far wall with a smirk gracing her lips. She would get no help from her.

"I'm practically naked!"

Josephine rolled her eyes. "You are completely clothed, and not a person will think your dress out of the ordinary for nobility from the Free Marches. It does get rather hot there during the summer, as I recall."

Evelyn sighed, turning this way and that in front of the floor-length mirror. In one week's time she would be wearing this exposing monstrosity to a ball held by the Empress of Orlais, and she felt she would be impossibly under-dressed. She may as well wear nothing at all.

The dark gray silk clung to her body like a second skin at the bodice, flaring out about her hips to create a small train behind her while the rest of the skirt nearly brushed the floor. Over her bust a string of alternating pearls and some manner of clear gemstone hung in a heart shape, curling about her shoulders in small, looping designs against her bare skin. The back of the dress, she flushed, was non-existent. The gems and pearls ended against the posterior of her shoulder blades while the silk plunged down to the small of her back. That wasn't the worst of it by far. While the back of the dress was certainly a point of contention from the first, it was Josephine's insistence on making a statement that had Evelyn's eye returning to the front of her dress. A string of finery similar to the one at her bust wrapped around and pulled tightly against the curves of her hips, and one horrifically large crystal sat atop the worst design choice she had ever seen in a dress. Originating from the crystal brooch hanging at her hip, the silk of her dress split apart to reveal the length of her bare leg - just the one, thank the Maker. The crinoline padding the back of her dress was red, and the color peeked out as such from this ill-designed _hole_ enough to make it severely indecent.

If the dress were made of cotton she could have easily been mistaken for a brothel girl.

A whistle came in from the open window where a pair of pointy ears and amused eyes regarded Evelyn appreciatively.

"Aahh-wwoooo, Evie! You look right frilly in that getup. Bit posh for me but you'll do inna pinch. Fancy you'll have that meanie Celenie eatin' out yer hand by the enduv the night, yeah?"

Evelyn smiled indulgently at Sera while the elf hung half of her body over the window sill from the outside. One hand propped up the girl's head while she stared unashamedly at the Inquisitor.

"The plan is to save her from a would-be assassination attempt. Everyone is going to stare at me while I try."

"Well that's the point, yeah? We go in, eat fancy cakes, let everyone eye-hump your leg forra bit, kill some murdering git and come home. Simple 'nuff."

"Eye-hump my leg?" Evelyn queried with a bit of amusement. She loved Sera's quirkiness.

"Well, that orr'your other bits. Is CullyWully gonna to show? Heheh," she snorted. "He'd _love_ to hump yer other bits."

Leliana choked on a laugh while Josephine blanched. Evelyn was pretty sure she just wanted a hole in the ground to open up and swallow her.

"_Sera_!"

"Fine, fine, I'll run." She made to leave before popping her head back in the window. "Woof!"

Then she was gone in a fit of giggles.

* * *

><p>"You sure you don't need me to beat away the over-eager Orlesians with a stick, boss?"<p>

"She already had an escort, you lumbering beast. Don't steal the thunder!"

Evelyn smiled at the pair's banter, grateful for the distraction as their carriage made its way toward Halamshiral and the Winter Palace. They'd left Skyhold around mid-morning, and ever since she found herself a mass of nervous energy. On the one hand she was ecstatic to see Cullen, for he'd been gone nearly ten months since she'd last laid eyes on him. Far too long, in her opinion, though they exchanged letters frequently. On the other hand she was still terrified of her dress, the comments, and the overall scrutiny she would experience upon arriving at the palace.

She fidgeted with the skirt of her gown, desperately trying to cover up the provocative slit in her dress. Dorian narrowed his eyes at that.

"Don't be so bashful, Evelyn. You look positively marvelous. That dress does wonders for your figure, unlike this one-size-fits-all, militarized, itchy overcoat they have me wearing."

She smirked. "I daresay I'd look better in your clothing, Dorian."

"You know, perhaps we should trade. I doubt a man showing up to a grand ball in a gown would be much of a shock."

Cassandra snorted from her seat next to Evelyn. "Another time, Dorian. I'm sure there will be many opportunities to feature your exhibitionist tendencies."

He grinned. "A pity."

The Inquisitor shook her head as they continued on, Dorian making some absurd remark he was only half-serious about, sometimes not serious at all, Bull making the odd observation now and again, and Cassandra fueling their conversation in good humor.

All too soon, and yet not soon enough, the carriage pulled into a wide circular drive, halting in front of a set of large marble steps.

Bull was out first, then Cassandra, and the Qunari gently handed Evelyn down from the vehicle. When she righted herself, again smoothing the skirt of her gown into some semblance of decency, she observed the very large and intimidating edifice of the Winter Palace.

The building was massive, on par with the Ostwick Circle in breadth. White stone glimmered silver in the faint light left from the setting sun, and the moon hung low over the blue tiled roof. Windows glowed warmly from within, leaving Evelyn feeling a bit more at ease than she had been before.

"This is beautiful," she breathed.

"It's...charming," Dorian remarked with a teasing grin. "Very rustic."

"Snob," she parried, looping her arm through his as they were led up the low steps, through an impossibly shiny brass gate, and into a garden where _hundreds_ of people milled about. Nearly everyone stopped short, conversations ending, as they eyed the Inquisitor's arrival with mixed emotions.

Some appeared overjoyed, many more curious, others looked decidedly displeased. She felt like she was on display. Well, she was. That's what Josephine had been trying to say. It was important for her to draw the eye of the party-goers so the Inquisition could get to the bottom of the threat on Celene's life.

"Ah, there are Josephine and Leliana," Dorian spoke abruptly, seeming to break the spell on the others as he walked behind Cassandra toward the two women who were already deep in conversation with a man who could only have been their contact, Gaspard.

She was rushed into introductions, tolerating the wet smack of Gaspard's lips against her knuckles as he fawned over her success in leading the Inquisition.

Far from it, she thought to say, but uttered nothing that might alter his rather high opinion of their organization. Lying by omission was his own fault, wasn't it?

"Very pleased to meet you, Grand Duke. I was just commenting about how lovely the palace looks tonight. Your cousin has done a marvelous job preparing for this event."

He made an irritated sound in the back of his throat, though Evelyn suspected it wasn't directed at her. The Grand Duke and Celene had their notable differences.

"Yes, yes. Celene always has had a way with parties. Pity she doesn't put as much effort into securing her country as she does her courtly intrigue."

A bit bitter for peace talks, aren't we Gaspard? She thought, shifting subtly backward when he leaned in closer to her. The stench of bourbon and cigars hung heavy on his breath.

"Indeed?"

He laughed, a low, greasy kind of sound. "Oh, yes. But if I get my way tonight, I'll be picking out a bride tomorrow at breakfast and executing uncooperative nobles by lunch time!" He paused a beat. "You are from an extensive noble line, yes Inquisitor?"

Her cheeks flushed, embarrassed at what he was attempting to suggest. "I'm afraid," Evelyn spoke in a small voice, "that I'm spoken for."

That was, mostly, the truth of it. She hadn't seen Cullen in a year, after all - since he'd left for the Western Approach. They hadn't really had anything before that beyond one impromptu stolen kiss. There was that dream, but she still wasn't sure of Cullen's opinion on the matter. He'd never once mentioned it in any of his letters. Somehow that thought saddened her.

"Oh ho?" Gaspard laughed at her again, seeming inappropriately amused by her comment. "I do not see a ring, my dear, and in Orlais that means you are free game. Allow me to go announce us. Please, meet me in the vestibule when you are ready."

She resisted the urge to gag. Maker, was that man foul.

"You know, father always said Orlesians couldn't help their poor manners because they're inbred."

Evelyn spun on her heel toward the voice, a wide grin lighting up her face as her eyes met her brother's.

"Peter!" Throwing her arms around him, she pulled back only far enough to take him in. The Approach hadn't changed him much. His skin was darker, hair longer, but his easy smile was firmly in place.

He regarded her with some amusement. "My, my, my, sister. Who on Thedas dressed you?"

Peter took her hand in his and made to turn her about in a circle so he could see the complete ensemble in all of its stormy gray, improper glory.

"Josephine wanted me to wear something traditional," Evelyn explained quickly.

A small chuckle left her brother's lips. "Then it is a success!"

She frowned. "You don't think it's just a bit inappropriate? All of the other women are wearing long sleeves, and their dresses are actually complete." Evelyn gestured to the gap in the skirt of her gown.

Peter shook his head. "You're too modest. You look wonderful. Stop worrying."

She wrinkled her nose at him, recognizing the subtle order. Well, if Peter thought it was fine, perhaps she should just try to forget…

All coherent thought fizzled entirely from her brain and trickled down her spine to pool at her feet when she looked past Peter's shoulder. Behind him stood a tall, blonde, curly-haired gentleman cut in a pair of perfectly tailored trousers and suit jacket in what appeared to be a Fereldish style. One shoulder was adorned with all manner of medals while the other had been draped with three braided cords of varying colors. At his waist hung a wide belt with a familiar sword fastened at the hip.

Though his back was turned to her, she would know the set of those shoulders and that subtle affirmative stance anywhere. Somewhere nearby Leliana and Josephine exchanged knowing and congratulatory looks. Peter joined them. Dorian wolf-whistled, the sound causing the Commander to look up and see the Tevinter mage. A slow, unguarded smile unfurled on his lips, an expression Evelyn had seen precious few times.

"Dorian!" He turned away from the soldier he'd been speaking to and loped over to the Tevinter mage who, Evelyn supposed, was drinking in the sight of him just as hungrily as she. "It's about time you showed up. Are you always late to balls in Tevinter as well?"

"Always late, but worth the wait, Commander." Dorian winked, eyes shifting over in Evelyn's direction.

Cullen followed his gaze and froze.

Standing beside Peter was Evelyn who, by all accounts, should have struck him deaf, dumb, and blind with her radiance. True, it had been a year since he'd laid eyes on her, but she was just as breathtakingly gorgeous as he'd remembered. Her pale hair hung free and loose in gentle curls down the curve of her spine, her dress- Maker, her dress fit against her body in a way that made his mouth run dry.

Then she smiled at him, striding over to where he stood. Idly, he wondered if he should just turn her smile on their enemies. It was a weapon unto itself.

"Hello." Evelyn came to stand just close enough that he could feel her body heat, and yet just far enough away that it didn't break any rules of decorum.

"Hello," he replied, the smile he'd given Dorian returning with force. "Long time, no see."

A blush traveled lazily from her chest to her cheeks, and he was fairly certain he was flushed himself.

"The court is almost ready to announce us, Inquisitor. We should make our way indoors." Leliana spoke gently as she passed where they had stood staring at one another.

Seeming to remember himself, he offered his elbow to her. "I'm not sure if you've been informed, but it appears I'll be your escort this evening."

If possible, her smiled widened. "Oddly enough," she spoke, shooting a quick glance at Josephine, "I wasn't."

Taking his arm, she tried to ignore the frisson of awareness that coursed through her limbs at the contact. It appeared that time had not dulled her physical reaction to him in the least. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest she swore she could hear it. As they took the steps up to the front doors, Evelyn became aware of all the eyes turned in her direction. Again, she remembered that she was dressed oddly, and it sure didn't help things that she was attached to one of the most handsome men in Orlais. These people weren't blind, after all.

They moved through the doors and into the vestibule, traversing yet another flight of stairs.

"You look beautiful," Cullen murmured quietly from beside her.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the inane smile that threatened to expose her girlish reaction to his praise.

"You don't look half-bad yourself. I like the hair."

The corner of his mouth lifted into a knowing smirk. "That's what happens when you go a year without a proper brush and you hurriedly cut your hair the night before a ball with an empress and the woman you've been anxious to see for months."

The crown of his head was adorned with a riotous profusion of curls. They were so abundant that a few locks brushed against his forehead in a way that seemed almost playful. While the sides and back of his head were closely cut in his normal fashion, it did in fact look like he'd been in too much of a hurry to bother with the rest.

She didn't mind in the least, especially following that little declaration.

"Keep it. I really do like it."

He inclined his head toward her, a stray curl falling across his forehead. "I'll think about it."

When they reached the top of the steps and she spotted Gaspard, she was suddenly even more grateful to be on Cullen's arm. She'd nearly forgotten the Grand Duke's suggestive tone in the excitement over seeing her Commander once more. Evelyn's grip on Cullen tightened, though her expression remained passive.

Cullen frowned, feeling the tension in her fingers through his jacket. He wanted to ask what was bothering her, but he had been under strict - more like threatening - orders from Josephine to remain silent on personal matters or those of the Inquisition while in close proximity to the patrons at the ball. It appeared he would be silent for most of the night the way they crowded about. Surely this place was large enough to house them all a comfortable distance from one another?

"Ah, Inquisitor, I see you have finally found your significant other among the crush. A shame. I was hoping he wouldn't show so I could have an excuse to take out out on the dance floor."

Cullen's brows rose at the man's audacity. For a Chevalier, he expected the Grand Duke to have a bit more...tact. Wait. Significant other?

To her credit, Evelyn masterfully evaded the uncomfortable point Gaspard had chosen to arm his statement with and replied with a benign smile. "I am sorry to disappoint, Your Highness. Surely there are much lovelier women than I present who would be eager to dance with you."

Fat chance in the Void, Cullen thought. Evelyn was easily the prettiest face in the crowd. Besides, how could a man tell who was lovely or not with a mask obscuring a lady's features?

"You do yourself too little credit, my Lady Trevelyan, but I digress. Shall you and your ah…?"

Cullen smiled, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. "Commander Cullen of the Inquisition. Former Knight Commander of Kirkwall. You know, the significant other?"

Evelyn pursed her lips in an effort not to laugh at his irritation with the Duke.

"Of course. A pleasure to meet you Commander," Gaspard merely inclined his head, passing through the doors into the ballroom.

Evelyn and Cullen followed.

"Significant other?" Cullen whispered at her ear.

"Sorry!" She whispered in return. "It was a snap decision. He was coming on a little strong."

"A little? The man was sneering at me the whole time, and I couldn't even see his face."

An amused chuckle reverberated through her chest as she peeked up at him from the corners of her eyes.

"Fine. A lot strong. Regardless, I'm glad you're here to temper him. I wouldn't want to make a scene."

The pair stopped above a set of carpeted stairs where Leliana and Josephine joined them. Reluctantly, Cullen unwound his arm from Evelyn's, instead grasping her hand in his.

"Evelyn, you will need to follow the Grand Duke out first since you represent the Inquisition and we are only here by his invitation. The rest of us will follow when our names are announced. When you address the Empress, be sure to-"

"Stop fussing, Josie." Leliana admonished, smiling reassuringly at the nervous Inquisitor. "Just be yourself and you will do splendidly." She grinned. "Luckily, you're a noble by birth."

Evelyn hid her laugh with her hand. "You never know. I may yet expose myself as a knuckle-dragging heathen from some backwater village in the Free Marches."

"Now presenting Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons!" The herald announced, a hush falling over the occupants of the ballroom as the man made his way down the steps and out onto the floor with all of the self-appointed regal pomposity of a spoiled, self-serving, and yet sufficiently powerful individual. While Evelyn might not have liked Gaspard as a man, she could not deny that he held himself with a brand of respect expected of an Emperor. Whether he would become one by the end of the night remained to be seen.

"And his guest Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan: Senior Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle of Magi. Daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick in the Free Marches!"

By this time Evelyn was making her way across the floor. Head up and shoulders back, Josephine had hissed before pressing her down the stairway. Her hand still tingled from where Cullen had placed his lips on the back of her knuckles before releasing her.

She really did try not to smile like an idiot at that.

"Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford: Commander of the Inquisition's forces and previous Knight Commander of Kirkwall!"

Evelyn almost tripped up the steps where Gaspard now stood. _Stanton_? Someone's parents had been cruel, though not nearly so cruel as Cassandra's whose many names were now being reiterated to the court.

When all was said and done Evelyn felt a bit more comfortable standing next to Gaspard with her advisers at her back as Empress Celene appeared at the rail above them. It was a clear show of superiority, she thought, though she could hardly blame the woman. She had allowed a would-be usurper in by the front door. Despite her seemingly relaxed address of her cousin, Evelyn could see the tension in the hard set of her jaw and stiff-waisted movements. When the empress looked her way, however, the woman relaxed considerably. She wondered why. It was not as if they had ever met. Regardless, something about Evelyn caused Her Royal Highness some relief.

Perhaps it was that, draped with silks, pearls, and jewels, Evelyn appeared a somewhat familiar sight. Not necessarily that she was less threatening, she suspected that most of Celene's opposition came dressed in finery, but that Evelyn was simply an enemy she thought she knew.

If only the empress realized that Evelyn was really quite out of her depth. While she had the manners and poise of a noble, that was the extent of her courtly knowledge. Josephine had taken considerable pains to educate her on matters of the court - who was in talks with who, the myriad of illicit affairs sure to be conducted this night, why it mattered if some such Duchess didn't dance with some such Duke. It was complicated enough to make her head spin, but she was intrigued all the same. The unfamiliar subject matter was a challenge for the mage who had, by now, decimated Cullen's library of military-based texts.

It was entertaining thoughts of her Commander when she realized the Empress was speaking to her. Crap!

She scrambled for something bland and general to say, hoping the woman would find it passable. The last thing she wanted was for the nobility of Orlais to think she was some kind of rude, inattentive dolt.

"I am pleased to finally meet you, Your Highness," She dropped into a low, graceful curtsy. She did not, however, lower her eyes. Such a move of supplication might have been proper for the Empress' subjects, but Evelyn was not Orlesian nor was she part of an organization that answered to the Orlesian nobility. Keeping her eyes fixed on Celene's face, she showed that she would respect the woman, but she was in no way subservient to her.

By the wry smile Celene granted her, she supposed her actions had the effect she'd intended. Good. She already liked the woman if only for the simple fact that she hadn't made a pass at Evelyn like her considerably less-couth cousin.

Gaspard had already been pulled away into talks with Celene, and so Evelyn and her advisers found themselves running over their plans for how best to discover the unknown assassin among the gentry.

"Our soldiers are being brought in little by little at the entry points we discussed earlier, Leliana," Cullen spoke quietly, casting a wary eye around them. He was about as comfortable here as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

"Excellent." The Nightingale smiled privately at Evelyn. "The mage I mentioned earlier remains a firm suspect, Evelyn. While I've had contact with her in the past, she is cunning and ruthless. This does not appear to be something she would trouble herself with, but I cannot rule someone this powerful out of the equation."

"Right, I will try to find information on her. The others are here, correct?"

Josephine nodded. "Sera and Varric are guiding Cullen's men inside. Bull is keeping an ear to the ground in the guest wing. Dorian is...probably drinking too much, but he will be able to offer some insight, I think."

Evelyn nodded. "Perfect. I'll make my way around and see if I can't pick up any gossip that seems out of place

It was some time later and after finding the bodies of several members of the Council of Heralds that Evelyn finally met with the mage Leliana seemed so concerned about. Morrigan was her name, and she was every bit as intimidating as she appeared. Despite the prickly exterior, though, Evelyn sensed that this woman cared little for the political machinations of Orlesian familial squabbles, nor did she seem to know anything related to Corypheus. She was aware of some suspicious goings on, but little else.

Armed with this new information, a rumor about servant disappearances, and a key, Evelyn made her way back into the ballroom to enlighten Leliana on her latest discoveries. She'd been just about to turn the key over to Varric when she spied Cullen nearly drowning in a sea of fine fabrics, strong perfume, and lustful little sighs.

For some reason, she found that rather irritating.

"Commander, would you please tell us about the fall of the Circle at Kinloch Hold? Surely, as the only survivor you must have some harrowing stories."

Several little voices tittered gratingly at the word "harrowing" like it was some kind of joke.

"No." Cullen said firmly, and a bit too quickly. Clearing his throat, he tried to salvage his rude reply. "No. Thank you."

It was only slightly less offensive, though Evelyn could hardly blame him for wanting to steer away from such a painful subject. Gently, she began pushing through his throng of admirers.

"That scar on your lip, was it from a Qunari during their invasion of Kirkwall? How many of your men died protecting the civilians there?"

She saw Cullen's lip curl in distaste the moment before she broke through the crowd and took his arm in hers. "Commander," she spoke softly, yet loudly enough that those closest would be able to hear. Evelyn turned so that she faced him, her hip leaning against his. It was perhaps too subtle of a show of possession for these shameless vultures, but she could hardly pull him into a heated kiss with all of these eyes on them. She would expire of embarrassment - not of him, but the display itself. "I find I am in need of your rather _expert_ advice." She freighted her words with a sensual note she was sure the onlookers wouldn't miss, and tugged Cullen rather ungraciously away from them. All the while he regarded her with a mix of confusion and amusement.

Once they were out in the vestibule, he chanced a laugh. "That was quite the performance."

She frowned. "They were making you uncomfortable. I can't believe how rude some of those questions were! Perhaps Peter was right about the inbreeding."

Cullen watched her angrily nibble at her lower lip and scuff one slippered foot against the marble floor. He'd never had anyone rush to defend him before - not that he'd needed it - until he'd met Evelyn. It was a strange feeling to be cared about in such a way, and he was still getting used to it despite taking some small joy in her high color and grumbling remarks on his behalf.

That was simply one of the many things he loved about her.

"Well, now that I've started _that_ whole lot of rumors, I suppose you should come with me," She spoke, pulling him out of his musings.

"Where to?" Cullen held out his arm for her, which she took without question as she began to lead him toward the guest wing.

"The servants, Briala's people, have been concerned about disappearances there tonight. Leliana and I agreed something was amiss, and I was just heading off to find Varric and investigate."

Cullen frowned. "This night is becoming more complicated than we anticipated, and I get the feeling I'm going to be met with one nasty surprise. I don't like it."

She sighed as they descended into the Hall of Heroes and to the door leading to the servant's quarters. "I share your unease, but there's little to be done about it now. Call me fickle, but I'm more concerned about a few missing elves than one empress."

Cullen's mouth lifted into a smirk. "Don't say that too loud."

Evelyn managed to unlatch the door, and they were greeted with an all too familiar coppery waft of air as the portal opened. "Damn."

Inside lay the bodies of several servants and, surprisingly, more men and women of nobility. Whoever had been cleaning house down here was indiscriminate, or they were being sent victims from the upper floors.

Cullen cast a critical eye about the bodies. "Cuts are too small for a sword. Can't be a Chevalier." He squat down next to one of the bodies and turned it over to examine one of the wounds more closely when a yell drew their attention to a side door.

A quick glance to one another and they rushed to it in time to see Varric firing a bolt into a garishly dressed man before he artfully fled the field into a nearby apartment.

"Venatori!" Cullen growled, drawing his sword in time to held Varric finish off the armed men the dodgy one left behind.

Without a shield he held his sword with two hands to add more force to his blows. It was overkill, as far as Evelyn was concerned. He made cutting through bone and sinew look like cutting through fresh butter. It would be unnerving if she didn't have so much faith in his good heart.

"Long time, Curly! Glad you and Sunshine showed up when you did. That asshole was going to eat me for breakfast." He cast a pointed look up to the balcony where the one man had disappeared.

Cullen followed his gaze, warily deciding with Varric that they should pursue, but not before Evelyn examined one of the many more bodies strewn about the courtyard.

"This is a Chalons crest on the dagger," Evelyn commented, rather clinical in her assessment. "It wasn't a killing blow, and the placement is a little dramatic. I'll bet this was staged so someone would find it."

"To implicate the Grand-something-or-other?" Varric asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Possibly. Probably. I have no idea what's going on anymore, but it's safe to assume the Chalons are now a target as well as Celene. Someone wanted this crested dagger found here and assume the Grand Duke, or someone associated with him, was taken under suspicion." Evelyn's brow furrowed as she turned the events over in her head.

She was wearing her Senior Enchanter face again, Cullen thought, keeping an eye out for further threats while she and Varric worked over theories before the dwarf let out a tired sigh.

"Let's go find that bastard dressed like a clown and punch some answers out of him, then."

"Sounds like a plan," Evelyn replied.

"Oh no, Sunshine. You will get blood all over your dress. Besides, you can't hit worth a damn."

"I'm not that bad…"

"You can't even knead dough properly. Cook demoted you to boiling water last month when you tried to help, remember?"

Evelyn sighed, conceding his point. "Yes, I remember." Then she grinned. "But everyone seemed to like the flat bread which irked her even more."

"Probably because the staff was cleaning up the crumbs from dinner for a week."

The moment they entered into the lower level of the apartment they were besieged by more Venatori. Staying behind so she wouldn't ruin her dress, on Varric's insistence, she settled for guarding Cullen and his own attire.

They wouldn't be thought of very highly by the court if they returned to the ballroom with rips, tears, and bloody patches on their finery. While it would cause a sensation, it would be entirely the wrong kind.

"Have I ever told you that I _like_ your magic?" Cullen spoke as they hurried down a deserted hall. He'd felt the thrum of her magic around him all evening, but when she summoned her barrier to deflect a blow for him he'd gotten a full taste of that crackling sensation that skittered down his spine and to all of his limbs. The enchantment she'd given him had held him over all these months, but he was elated to finally be in the presence of the real thing once more.

She frowned. "No. You haven't."

"Hm. Well I do." At her confused expression he smiled warmly. "I'll explain later."

"Heads up!" Varric called from ahead as the very terribly dressed man made his appearance once more.

* * *

><p>"Then Briala shows up out of nowhere and tries to bribe me with an underground elven army," Evelyn murmured to Leliana who they had relayed the information to once they'd exited the gardens. This night was becoming more crooked than a barrel of snakes.<p>

"I will find Josephine and talk this over with her. In the meantime, you and the Commander get down to the dance floor and see if you can't discover more there. A waltz is the perfect venue for plotting murder."

If Evelyn hadn't known Leliana so well by now, she might have thought that last comment was made in jest.

"Shall we?" Cullen held out his hand for her.

She eyed the growing horde of his admirers critically. "Lead the way."

For all his bluster about not wanting to learn to dance, thinking it a waste of time, and the fear of embarrassing himself, Cullen was quite adept at the skill by the time Hawke had finished him. The few pointers from Peter hadn't hurt either.

_Think of it like a drill,_ he'd said, and from that moment the steps seemed to string together easily. He couldn't deny that having an excuse to hold Evelyn so closely wasn't a very tempting incentive as well.

His right hand gripped hers, their fingers intertwined as his left rested flat against the small of her back. Cullen couldn't help the desire he had to pull her closer so that her chest molded to his. she didn't seem to mind, either. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed as she smiled up at him. He might've felt like an idiot for smiling back the way he did if it wasn't for the unrestrained look of adoration in her eyes.

How Leliana thought they could get any work done like this was beyond him.

When the dance ended they stood apart to catch their breath a moment. That was when Duchess Florianne approached Evelyn. She had her own partner, though as the music began for the next dance the two women became engrossed in conversation.

Cullen didn't like that their mood had shifted back to business, though he was loathe to admit it. Whether he liked it or not the spell had been broken, and from the way Evelyn stiffened in his arms he suspected her hushed conversation with Florianne had yielded information of some import.

The last song of the set had ended, and with it the Duchess excused herself from the floor. Evelyn made to do the same, though unlike the Florianne, she took her partner by the hand and led him from it.

"She's up to something, Cullen. She knows we've been running around the palace tonight."

Cullen drew her to him, taking her free and in his. "Gaspard's own sister," he mused thoughtfully. "Perhaps he's playing a different angle, though he's very well respected for following his code of honor. Using a relative to wrest control of the empire from Celene seems almost too underhanded."

Evelyn pursed her lips. "We need more information. The assassin will make their move soon. I can feel it."

Not long after Cullen, Varric, Dorian and Evelyn slipped into the royal wing which was now suspiciously unlocked. Varric bemoaned the fact that he hadn't picked one lock inside the palace that night.

"This place has shit security," he'd said as they made their way through the room.

A scream from the room beside them had Cullen rushing in, Dorian close on his heels. Inside another Venatori assassin advanced on a woman who scrambled away on her hands and knees. Evelyn beat Cullen to the punch as he advanced on the man and shield bashed the offender through the open window with her barrier.

Cullen shot her an amused grin over his shoulder. "That's one way to fix a problem."

Dorian helped the elven woman to her feet while she clutched her chest. "Thank the creators you came when you did!"

"Are you hurt?" Evelyn asked.

"No." Her gaze shifted between her companions before resting on Evelyn once more. "I can't believe Briala would do this."

"Briala? She's the reason you're here?"

"Well she's the one that told me to come here, yeah. Servants have been disappearing left and right tonight. I didn't think…" She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "She told me to come in here to look for something."

"Look for what?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know what you were looking for?" This was getting more ridiculous by the minute.

"Look, Briala really wants her plan tonight to work. I don't know exactly what it is, but I suspect she wants me out of the way."

"Why?"

"Because I know she was fucking the queen while the alienages burned on her order. She doesn't care about us. She cares about herself and her personal standing in the court. Briala hides behind the plight of the elves because it suits her, not because she feels any sympathy for us. I know it. She knows I know it, and she knows I'd expose her."

Evelyn frowned while Dorian cleared his throat. "The Inquisition can protect you from the spymaster."

Cullen nodded. "Go find a woman named Cassandra in the vestibule. She will see you safe until we deal with Briala."

She nodded, spewing apologies and thanks before fleeing the room, clearly terrified.

"Well," Evelyn sighed, "we now know Briala isn't as innocent and beguiling as she appears."

"That's the norm in Orlesian politics, Evie," Dorian replied before pausing in front of yet another door. "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"Help!"

The call was muffled, but they could hear it plainly once they'd all stopped moving.

"How many damsels in distress are we going to save in one evening?" Varric laughed as he eyed the door. "Hey, this is one of the ones I told you we needed the statuettes for."

"The Halla? I've picked up a few" Evelyn replied, reaching into the bodice of her gown.

Cullen immediately averted his eyes, a blush rising in his cheeks. Maker, had she been carrying everything in there?

She procured at least ten of the small statuettes from the bust of the gown and handed them to Varric who seemed to have no trouble figuring out how to place them into the tiny recesses about the door. With an audible click and a flare of magic the door opened.

Evelyn was not prepared for the sight that greeted them as they walked further into the room.

"How very...Orlesian," Dorian mused.

On the large bed in the center of the room a man was tied by each limb to one of the posts on the frame. He wore nothing but a soldier's helmet which fell haphazardly over his eyes.

"Hello? Help! Get me down!"

"Hang on," Evelyn spoke, trying to keep the laugh out of her voice as she walked to the bedside and began to unfasten one of the bonds while Dorian worked on the other at his wrist. "What happened?"

"I-it's not what it looks like! I mean - I wish it was what it looks like."

Cullen's brows both rose at that. This man had very high hopes indeed.

"Be that as it may," Evelyn tried to steer him back on track, "You haven't answered my question." She released the bond on his hand and lifted the helmet from his head so he could see.

"Uhhh-Well...I…"

She has that effect on me too, Cullen thought sympathetically while Evelyn moved to the man's ankle.

"Celene, she, er, tied me up. I have some, ah, information that she wanted. She got it and then just left me here."

Evelyn's eyes were sharp as she regarded the man. Here she had such high hopes for Celene. It appeared as if no one could run this country without committing some kind of crime. What had happened to honor? Chivalry? Plain old common sense!? She jerked a bit too hard on the rope binding the man's leg, causing him to yelp.

"Sorry. Would you be willing to testify to that if needed? The Inquisition can protect you."

The soldier blinked. "Huh? Oh, sure."

She released him just as Dorian unwound the last of the rope from the soldier's ankle. Cullen handed him one of the discarded bed sheets to cover up with.

"Make yourself decent, then go out to the vestibule and find a woman named Cassandra."

"Try not to let too many people see you." Varric added with a chuckle.

Wrapping himself securely in the bed sheet, he scrambled out of the room in much the same way the elf woman had.

"Well, _my _night cannot possibly get any better!" Dorian chimed in cheerfully. "The Orlesians really do play the best bedroom games."

Evelyn snorted, covering her laugh with the back of her hand. "Poor man."

"You surprise me, Sunshine. Here I thought you'd be all blushed and stammers."

She blinked "What, because there was a naked man tied to a bed?"

"Well, yeah."

A small smile unfurled across her lips. "Varric, I'm modest, not a prude. There is a difference."

The dwarf simply shrugged, chuckling to himself as they again attempted to walk further into the wing.

As it turns out saving an elf from being murdered and finding a naked soldier tied to the empress' bed was the least of the problems plaguing the royal apartments that night. They'd stumbled right into a trap set for them by none other than the Duchess who, surprise surprise, worked directly for Corypheus and was the contact that had been mentioned in the letter they'd found in Therinfal all those months ago. Leaving her party to the Fade rift and a host of demons, Florianne made her escape back into the ballroom to make good on the assassination attempt.

By the end of the fight they'd been winded, but sure of the Duchess' plan, and stopped only long enough to release one of Gaspard's men and extract a promise from him that he would speak against the Grand Duke when he was called upon to do so. They ran into a few lingering groups of Venatori, clearing the wing before they all stumbled awkwardly back into the ballroom through a door that had previously been barred shut.

Cullen immediately alerted the inquisition guards posted inside the room while Evelyn broke away from them to intercept Florianne who, when she caught sight of the Inquisitor and her thunderous expression, blanched. Slowly, much like she would a vicious animal, Evelyn approached the Duchess.

Here goes nothing.

She took a deep breath and, in the eyes of the Orlesian court at least, sealed her fate. "We owe your guests one more show, Your Grace."

There was a collective explosion of murmurs all around, and Evelyn swallowed the lump in her throat. She could do this. She had to do this for the people of Orlais.

"Lady Trevelyan?" The Duchess sneered, forgoing Evelyn's title out of spite.

"Careful. Everyone is watching you, Your Grace." Somehow she found the part of her that had been positively enraged earlier at the pathetic games these nobles played. She smiled that disarming little way of hers, walking up to slowly stand on even ground with Florianne. "Remember to smile."

Her responding smile was tight-lipped, eyes shifting about the room for an escape. She found only Inquisition soldiers and the Empress' own guard posted at the doors. "I would...be delighted to speak with you."

Evelyn's smile widened, her voice softening. "Do you remember when you told me all you needed to do was keep me out of the ballroom long enough to strike? It was, oh, about ten or fifteen minutes ago, I suspect."

The Duchess paled further, casting a beseeching look toward her brother who looked just as confused as Celene who stood just above her.

Evelyn pressed onward, crossing her arms over the shimmering fabric of her gown. She looked for all the world like she could be the Empress herself.

"Clearly, you are surprised to see me, no doubt upset that your archers failed to kill me in the garden."

Another explosion of murmurs, this time many a scandalized gasp echoed within the cavernous room. Perfect, Evelyn thought. She needed to expose the Duchess. Humiliate her. It seemed to be the only type of punishment Orlesian nobility understood.

"I am very sorry to disappoint you, Your Grace. You see, I am not used to such grand affairs as these. My backwater, Free Marcher upbringing does me little credit, as I've heard a few say tonight."

Celene cocked her head, assessing, planning.

"Despite my questionable breeding, however, I have discovered tonight that you framed your own brother for the murder of several council emissaries. You bit off a bit more than you could chew of course. Gaspard, Celene, Briala, the Council of Heralds - all of your enemies under one roof. Then there was me. I fear I ruined your perfect plans, Your Grace."

"What is the meaning of this?" Gaspard called, but was silenced by Leliana's quelling glare. Lady Nightingale seemed to appear out of thin air nearby.

"This is all very amusing," Florianne smiled, trying to play off Evelyn's accusations as some kind of farce. She looked up at Celene. "You do not believe this grand story, do you?"

Celene's regal profile remained stoic. "That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin, if the Inquisitor has the evidence she says she does."

"Gaspard?" Florianne was panicking now.

Evelyn remained rooted in place, watching with some satisfaction as the Grand Duke shook his head and backed away.

"I'm sorry sister. If what the Inquisitor says is true, I cannot help you."

Several of Celene's guards approached then and Florianne, delicate flower that she was, collapsed to the ground in a puddle of tears. Did the woman have no self-respect?

"This isn't-!" She cried when the guards lifted her up and restrained her.

"It is, Your Grace," Evelyn put some steel behind her words. "You lose."

When the Duchess had been taken away, Evelyn turned her gaze to Celene, who was watching the proceedings with unsettling passiveness.

"Your Highness, I believe we should speak in private."

Catching her eye Celene nodded and motioned for Evelyn to join her, Gaspard and Briala on one of the outside terraces.

Immediately the three powers that would be began to argue. They assigned blame at anyone but themselves, which only added to Evelyn's mounting anger. To her credit, it was Celene who finally silenced the bickering in favor of actually trying to discuss how to secure her country.

Too little, too late.

"You're all guilty of placing yourself above your charges. Your self-serving policies and plans created the perfect avenue for what happened tonight to occur. If the Inquisition had not been here, I shudder to think what would have happened to Orlais." She ignored their scandalized and, in the case of Celene, furious looks. "You," She pointed at Celene, addressing her much like she might have addressed a petulant mageling back at the Circle, "allowed Gaspard's soldiers inside the palace hoping he would make a stupid mistake and reveal his intentions to be rid of you. You sacrificed the safety of not only yourself, but all those in attendance tonight simply because you are unwilling to call him out on his crap." Gaspard opened his mouth to speak, but Evelyn cut him off. "You are an idiot and fell for it. I met your mercenary captain tonight. Don't play stupid." He shut his mouth with an audible snap.

"Clever move, if you were trying to get hang-"

"Quiet." Evelyn growled forcefully. She had enough of this. "You were playing on both of them. You're nothing but a murdering social climber with a superiority complex."

The elf tried to argue again. Evelyn held up a hand to silence her. "No one will defend any of you once I reveal the information I have recovered from those you have wronged." She cast a pointed look to Briala. "Turning a blind eye while your lover sends an order to burn an entire alienage does not grant one many friends, I imagine."

Celene sighed, straightening her shoulders. "Point made, Inquisitor. What do you want?"

Evelyn looked at the three in turn and tried to remember that often times power was a corruptive and intoxicating force, able to poison the greatest minds. Gaspard and Celene could accomplish so much if they would just shut up and listen to one another.

"I have beaten you at your own game," she spoke evenly. "You will work together and set aside your petty differences or I will return to Orlais and tear the ruling class apart from the inside out." She granted them her easy smile. "Seems rather good incentive to keep the peace, which is all any of us truly want, is it not?"

Celene did not look pleased, but nodded. "A sound threat accompanied by truths we should have been aware of for some time. I will...venture to rectify my own mistakes."

Thank the Maker. There was some hope, at least. Evelyn had liked Celene from the first, after all.

The three made a tentative truce that night on the balcony, and returned to the ballroom to announce their intentions to those present. Evelyn did not join them. She was shaking from the effort of keeping her voice calm. Maker, that was intense. How did the Orlesians stand it?

Josephine and Leliana accosted her moments later.

"You were born for this!" Leliana gushed, a prideful smile gracing her lips. Evelyn was fairly certain that was as close as the spymaster would ever come to hugging her.

Josephine was less impressed. "That was the stupidest, gutsiest move I've ever seen! So much could have gone wrong! We had a plan. Did you even remember it? I gave you an itinerary to memorize for a reason."

The ambassador kept on, but her voice faded into the background as Evelyn spied Cullen at the doorway, looking out at the women with a rather bemused expression. Leliana caught on to the Inquisitor's lack of attention immediately, ushering a still blustering Josephine back inside.

Cullen traded places with them shortly thereafter.

"I believe, my Lady, that you have succeeded in humbling the three most powerful politicians in Orlais with nothing but a stern word."

She blushed, looking away and down into the gardens below. "It was terrifying."

"Terrifying?"

"Absolutely. I'm not used to all of this posturing. I treated an empress like she was an errant mageling that just set a Templar's robes on fire!"

He stifled a laugh. "I think that's what she needed. She could be a much better ruler if given the proper motivation."

She sighed. "I thought so too."

"Yet you seem sad."

She turned to him with a smile. "It's been a long night. I confess the only enjoyable part of the evening was the dance I shared with you."

His grin encouraged her own. "I would have to agree with you on that point."

A comfortable silence stretched between them, but Cullen appeared to be thinking something over in his head. In short order he straightened away from the railing, took Evelyn's hand in his and placed a kiss to her knuckles. "Come with me."

She blinked when he vaulted over the railing, landing ten or so feet below the balcony on one of the terraces that had been off-limits that night.

"What are you doing?" She hissed. "You're not supposed to be down there!"

"I know." He grinned. "But isn't this more of the same of what we've been doing all night?"

She couldn't argue that.

"Come on," he spoke again, holding out his arms. "I'll catch you."

She cast one last look back at the ballroom. No one was paying any attention to her. So it was that she found herself hiking up her skirts and sitting atop the railing before dropping off into Cullen's embrace. He held her there for a moment before allowing her to slide down his body and onto her feet.

Taking her hand, he started away, leading her through an iron gate and along a narrow pathway next to part of the palace she was unfamiliar with.

"Where are we going?"

He chuckled. "A place I found when we were scouting the palace earlier this evening. I thought you might like it."

She couldn't help the smile that blossomed on her lips. "This was planned?"

"You caught me."

Her laugh in response was like music to his ears as he slowed down in front of a rather thick overhang of ivy. Ah, this was the right spot.

He pulled her after him, parting the mass of leafy green with one hand to reveal an overgrown garden. Untamed it might have been, but the flowers that had gone unmanicured had grown wild, giving the space the feeling of a painter's canvas. Tiny riotous explosions of color appeared in every corner, and it was with an awed expression that she released herself from his hold to explore.

"This is amazing!" She breathed. She'd thought the Palace itself was lovely, but it could simply not compare to this wild kind of beauty.

"I thought so too."

Evelyn turned on him with a smile so radiant he was surprised he wasn't struck blind by it then and there. "Thank you!"

Before he knew it she'd thrown her arms around his neck and pressed a firm kiss against his lips. He supposed both of them should have expected that the thankful little gesture would not remain such for long. Slowly, tentatively as they relearned each other after a year apart, the kiss morphed from rather innocent and sweet to something hungrier. Desperate.

His arms came around her, holding her against him at the small of her back as he returned the embrace in kind. Unwilling to simply settle for a kiss this time, Evelyn cleaved her body to his, straddling one of his thighs between her legs as she lifted herself up to his eye level.

Perhaps that slit in her dress had some merit after all.

A small, desirous sound rumbled in Cullen's chest, and he abandoned her lips to brush his own across her cheek and down the soft pale column of her throat. The path caused her flesh to raise at his feather-light touch, her hips pressing into his. Halting at her collarbone, Cullen gently nipped at the feature while his nose settled at the crook of her neck.

He breathed deeply, wanting this to last forever. He wanted to get drunk on her scent and lose himself in it as he took her against the garden's stone wall.

She deserved better.

Grudgingly, he pried his lips away from the tempting skin of her throat and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Evelyn turned abruptly and caught his lips in cheeky retaliation. "What's wrong?"

"This is not quite how I imagined it." He admitted.

"No?" She smiled, nibbling at the stubble on his jaw.

Maker, she was distracting.

"You deserve more than a spur-of-the-moment tumble in the garden, Evelyn. At least, I want to give you more than that - if you'll let me."

She stilled, sliding off of his leg while regarding him with an emotion he found difficult to place. "Do you really need to ask?"

He smiled. "Yes. I'm the kind of man that needs a plan, after all."

Her answering grin put to rest his previous uncertainties. "I was perhaps a bit too impatient."

His ungloved fingers traced a tantalizing path up the underside of her throat, curling beneath her chin so that he could look at her beautiful blue eyes when he spoke. "We will continue this back home."


End file.
